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IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

By  GEORGE  FREDERICK  RUXTON 


As  It  "Was   in  the  Days  of  Kit 
Carson  and  the  "Mountain  Men" 


EDITED  BY 

HORACE  KEPHART 


INTERNATIONAL  FICTION  LIBRARY 

CLEVELAND  NEW  YORK 

Vlade  in  U.S.A. 


Copyright,  1915 
By  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

All  rights  reserved 


PRESS    OF 

THE    COMMERCIAL    BOOKBINDIKG    CO. 

CLEVELAND 


INTRODUCTION 

When  we  bought  the  Louisiana  Territory  from 
Napoleon,  in  1803,  it  was  not  from  any  pressing 
need  of  land,  for  we  still  had  millions  of  fertile 
acres  east  of  the  Mississippi.  The  purchase  was 
made  to  forestall  complications  with  foreign  pow- 
ers, either  with  the  arch-conqueror  himself,  whose 
ambition  was  supposed  to  be  the  mastery  of  the 
whole  world,  or  with  Great  Britain,  to  which  the 
western  country  was  sure  to  fall  in  case  France 
should  be  defeated.  Possession  of  Louisiana  was 
essential  to  our  free  navigation  of  the  Mississippi. 

The  vast  domain  thus  added  to  our  boundaries 
was  terra  incogmta.  Aside  from  its  strategic 
importance  no  one  knew  what  it  was  good  for. 
So  Lewis  and  Clark  were  sent  out  from  the  fron- 
tier post  of  St.  Louis  to  find  a  route  to  the  Pacific 
and  to  report  on  what  the  new  country  was  like. 

The  only  commercial  asset  that  these  explorers 
found  which  was  immediately  available  was  an 
abundance  of  fur-bearing  animals.  Fur  may  be 
called  the  gold  of  that  period,  and  the  news  that 
there  was  plenty  of  it  in  the  Rocky  Mountains 
lured  many  an  intrepid  spirit  of  the  border. 
Companies  of  traders  proceeded  at  once  up  the 
Missouri  to  barter  for  peltries  with  the  Indians, 


6  INTRODUCTION 

They  established  posts  and  arranged  rendezvous 
in  remote  fastnesses  of  the  mountains  where  they 
carried  on  a  perilous  but  very  profitable  trafl5c. 
At  the  same  time  there  went  into  the  Far  West 
many  independent  adventurers  to  hunt  and  trap 
on  their  own  account. 

In  the  motley  ranks  of  these  soldiers  of  fortune 
the  boldest  and  most  romantic  characters  were 
the  free  trappers  —  those  who  went,  as  they  ex- 
pressed it,  "  on  their  own  hook."  The  em- 
ployees of  the  fur  companies  were  under  strict 
discipline  that  checked  personal  initiative.  They 
were  of  the  class  who  work  for  hire  and  see  no 
compensation  for  an  arduous  life  save  the  wages 
earned  from  their  taskmasters.  But  the  free  trap- 
pers were  accountable  to  nobody.  Each  of  them 
fought  his  own  fight  and  won  the  full  fruit  of 
his  endeavors.  Going  alone,  or  in  small  bands 
•who  acknowledged  no  captain  and  would  split  up 
whenever  the  humor  moved  them,  everyone  a  law 
unto  himself  and  relying  upon  his  own  strong  arm, 
they  were  men  picked  by  nature  for  great  enter- 
prises and  great  deeds. 

It  was  not  love  of  gain  for  its  own  sake  that 
drew  the  free  trappers  into  the  wilderness.  To 
them  a  pack  of  beaver  skins  was  a  mere  gambler's 
stake,  to  be  squandered  riotously  after  the  fash- 
ion of  Jack  ashore.  What  did  compel  them  to  a 
life  of  endless  wandering  and  extreme  hazard  was 
the  sheer  lust  of  adventure,  and  a  passion  for  that 


INTRODUCTION  7 

absolute,  irresponsible  freedom  that  can  be  en- 
joyed only  in  a  state  of  nature.  Never  in  our 
history  have  there  been  pioneers  who  took  greater 
risks  than  they,  or  endured  harsher  vicissitudes, 
or  severed  themselves  so  completely  from  the  civil- 
ization in  which  they  were  born.  Nowhere,  and 
at  no  time,  have  men  of  our  race  been  thrown 
more  upon  their  individual  resources  in  unknown 
regions,  and  through  periods  of  great  peril,  nor 
have  there  ever  been  characters  more  fitly  devel- 
oped to  stand  such  strain. 

Cut  ofF  from  the  repressing  and  refining  in- 
fluences of  civilization,  forever  warring  with  this 
Indian  tribe  and  cohabiting  with  that,  it  was  in- 
evitable that  most  of  these  men  should  revert 
toward  the  status  of  white  barbarians.  And  yet 
it  would  be  a  grave  error,  an  injustice,  to  rate 
them  with  mere  renegades  and  desperadoes.  The 
trapper,  whatever  his  faults,  was  still  every  inch 
a  man.  Bravest  of  the  brave,  yet  cool  and  saga- 
cious in  the  strategy  of  border  war,  capable  in  any 
emergency,  faithful  to  his  own  code  of  honor,  gen- 
erous without  limit  to  everyone  but  his  foes,  loyal 
to  the  death,  frankly  contemptuous  of  luxury  and 
caste  and  affectation,  imperial  in  his  self-respect 
but  granting  equal  rights  to  others,  there  was 
something  heroic  in  this  fierce  and  uncouth  figure 
who  dominated  for  a  time  the  vast  plains  and 
mountains  of  the  wild  West.  And  it  should  not 
be  forgotten  that  the  early  traders  and  trappers 


8  INTRODUCTION 

performed  an  indispensable  service  to  their  coun- 
try that  no  other  men  of  their  time  were  able,  or 
at  least  willing,  to  do :  they  were  the  explorers,  the 
trail-makers,  for  western  civilization. 

General  Chittenden,  our  first  authority  on  the 
history  of  the  fur  trade,  says  of  the  mountain 
men :  "  It  was  the  roving  trader  and  the  solitary 
trapper  who  first  sought  out  these  inhospitable 
wilds,  traced  the  streams  to  their  sources,  scaled 
the  mountain  passes,  and  explored  a  boundless 
expanse  of  territory  where  the  foot  of  the  white 
man  had  never  trodden  before.  The  Far  West  be- 
came a  field  of  romantic  adventure,  and  developed 
a  class  of  men  who  loved  the  wandering  career  of 
the  native  inhabitant  rather  than  the  toilsome  lot 
of  the  industrious  colonist.  The  type  of  life 
thus  developed,  though  essentially  evanescent,  and 
not  representing  any  profound  national  movement, 
was  a  distinct  and  necessary  phase  in  the  growth 
of  this  new  country.  Abounding  in  incidents  pic- 
turesque and  heroic,  its  annals  inspire  an  interest 
akin  to  that  which  belongs  to  the  age  of  knight- 
errantry.  For  the  free  hunter  of  the  Far  West 
was,  in  his  rough  way,  a  good  deal  of  a  knight- 
errant.  Caparisoned  in  the  wild  attire  of  the  In- 
dian, and  armed  cap-a-pie  for  instant  combat,  he 
roamed  far  and  wide  over  deserts  and  mountains, 
gathering  the  scattered  wealth  of  those  regions, 
slaying  ferocious  beasts  and  savage  men,  and  lead- 
ing a  life  in  which  every  footstep  was  beset  with 


INTRODUCTION  9 

enemies  and  every  moment  pregnant  of  peril.  The 
great  proportion  of  these  intrepid  spirits  who  laid 
down  their  lives  in  that  far  country  is  impressive 
proof  of  the  jeopardy  of  their  existence.  All  in 
all,  the  period  of  this  adventurous  business  may 
justly  be  considered  the  romantic  era  of  the  his- 
tory of  the  West.  .  .   . 

"  It  was  the  trader  and  trapper  who  first  ex- 
plored and  established  the  routes  of  travel  which 
are  now,  and  always  will  be,  the  avenues  of  com- 
merce in  that  region.  They  were  the  '  pathfind- 
ers '  of  the  West,  and  not  those  later  official  ex- 
plorers whom  posterity  so  recognizes.  No  fea- 
ture of  western  geography  was  ever  discovered 
by  Government  explorers  after  1840.  Every- 
thing was  already  known,  and  had  been  for  fully 
a  decade.  It  is  true  that  many  features,  like  the 
Yellowstone  wonderland,  with  which  these  rest- 
less rovers  were  familiar,  were  afterward  forgot- 
ten and  were  re-discovered  in  later  years ;  but 
there  has  never  been  a  time  until  very  recently 
when  the  geography  of  the  West  was  so  thoroughly 
understood  as  it  was  by  the  trader  and  trapper 
from  1830  to  18  iO. 

*'  This  minute  knowledge  was  of  practical  use 
in  many  ways.  When  Brigham  Young  selected 
the  valley  of  Great  Salt  Lake  as  the  future  home 
of  his  people,  he  did  so  largely  upon  information 
derived  from  the  traders.  When  the  War  with 
Mexico   came,  the  military  forces   of  the  United 


10  INTRODUCTION 

States  invaded  New  Mexico  under  the  guidance 
of  men  who  knew  every  trail  and  mountain  pass 
better  than  the  most  thorough  reconnaissance 
could  have  taught  them.  When  the  national 
troops  appeared  before  the  gates  of  Santa  Fe 
they  were  met  by  a  people  who  had  already  been 
virtually  won  to  the  American  cause  through  long 
intercourse  with  the  traders.  When  the  rush  of 
emigration  to  California  and  Oregon  followed,  the 
emigrants  found  a  highway  across  the  continent 
already  established.  When  the  Government  en- 
tered in  earnest  upon  the  work  of  exploration,  it 
was  the  veteran  mountaineer  who  was  always 
sought  to  do  service  as  guide." 

It  is  most  unfortunate  that  there  exists  in 
American  literature  no  intimate  and  vivid  account 
of  the  western  hunters  and  trappers  by  one  who 
had  shared  their  camps  and  accompanied  them 
on  trail  and  warpath.  We  have  many  stories  of 
their  exploits,  written  in  narrative  form,  with 
scarce  any  dialogue  or  characterization.  The  men 
themselves  figure  in  such  stories  as  little  more 
than  lay  figures  in  a  historical  museum.  It  is  one 
thing  to  describe  events ;  it  is  another  thing  to 
make  the  actors  in  those  events  live  and  speak 
in  the  reader's  presence.  Generally  the  contem- 
porary annals  of  the  fur  trade  are  as  dry  as  a 
ship's  log-book.  The  participants  in  those  stir- 
ring scenes  could  not  write,  and  the  men  of  their 
time  who  could  write  lacked  the  experience. 


INTRODUCTION  11 

What  American  authors  failed  to  do  was  ac- 
■complished  by  a  young  English  sportsman  and 
explorer  who  lived  among  the  trappers  as  one  of 
themselves  and  acquired  their  point  of  view.  Al- 
though not  a  professional  writer,  he  was  blest  with 
a  knack  of  putting  his  experiences,  and  those  of 
his  companions,  so  clearly  before  his  readers  that 
one  can  visualize  both  men  and  deeds  without 
conscious  effort.  This  man  was  George  Freder- 
ick Ruxton,  formerly  a  lieutenant  in  her  Maj- 
esty's 89th  Regiment. 

In  Blackwood's  Magazine  of  1848  there  ap- 
peared a  serial  by  Ruxton  entitled  "  Life  in  the 
Far  West."  This  story  excited  so  much  inter- 
est that  it  was  reprinted  in  book  form,  and  went 
through  two  editions.  These  are  out  of  print, 
and  so  the  work  is  practically  unknown  to  our 
reading  public. 

"  Life  in  the  Far  West  "  *  is  written  in  the  form 
of  a  thinly  veiled  romance ;  but  the  actors  were 
real,  the  incidents  were  real,  and  they  were  strung 
together  in  a  connected  plot  simply  because  that 
was  the  most  effective  way  to  show  character  in 
action.  The  story  is  not  history,  of  course,  but 
neither  is  it  fable.  Nearly  every  page  gives  con- 
vincing evidence  of  the  author's  intimate  personal 
knowledge  of  the  scenes  and  characters  portrayed. 
He  had  scoured  the  continent  from   Canada  to 

*  Here  published  as  "  In  the  Old  West." 


12  INTRODUCTION 

Mexico,  from  the  Mississippi  to  the  Pacific  coast. 
He  had  associated  with  many  redoubtable  charac- 
ters of  the  old  West  —  with  men  like  Kit  Carson, 
Bill  Williams,  the  Bents,  the  Sublettes,  Joe  Meek, 
St.  Vrain,  Fitzpatrick,  Killbuck,  and  La  Bonte. 
He  was  equally  at  home  among  Americans,  Cana- 
dians, Creoles,  Mexicans,  Spanish  Californians, 
and  Indians.  Each  of  these  picturesque  types  he 
has  shown  to  the  life.  No  narrative  or  formal  his- 
tory of  that  time  has  described  the  pioneers  of  the 
Far  West  with  such  actual  truth  and  fidelity. 

The  wildness  of  the  adventures  related  by 
Ruxton  led  many  readers  to  suspect  that  they 
were  mere  romance.  The  author  replied,  in  a 
letter  to  his  publishers :  — 

"  I  think  it  would  be  well  to  correct  a  misap- 
prehension as  to  the  truth  or  fiction  of  the  paper. 
It  is  no  -fiction.  There  is  no  incident  in  it  which 
has  not  actually  occurred,  nor  one  character  who 
is  not  well  known  in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  with 
the  exception  of  two  whose  names  are  changed." 

Fully  half  of  the  names  of  Americans  mentioned 
in  his  book  can  be  identified  today  with  the  men 
who  bore  them.     Again  he  wrote :  — 

"  I  have  brought  out  a  few  more  softening  traits 
in  the  characters  of  the  mountaineers  —  but  not 
at  the  sacrifice  of  truth  —  for  some  of  them  have 
their  good  points  ;  which,  as  they  are  rarely  allowed 
to  rise  to  the  surface,  must  be  laid  hold  of  at  once 
before    they    sink    again.     Killbuck  —  that    *  old 


INTRODUCTION  13 

hoss '  par  exempie,  was  really  pretty  much  of  a 
gentleman,  as  was  La  Bonte.  Bill  Williams, 
another  '  hard  case,'  and  Rube  Herring,  were 
*  some '  too. 

"  The  scene  where  La  Bonte  joins  the  Chase 
family  is  so  far  true,  that  he  did  make  a  sudden 
appearance  J  but,  in  reality,  a  day  before  the  In- 
dian attack.  The  Chases  (and  I  wish  I  had  not 
given  the  proper  name*)  did  start  for  the  Platte 
alone,  and  were  stampeded  upon  the  waters  of 
the  Platte. 

"  The  Mexican  fandango  is  true  to  the  letter. 
It  does  seem  difficult  to  understand  how  they  con- 
trived to  keep  their  knives  out  of  the  hump-ribs 
of  the  mountaineers ;  but  how  can  you  account  for 
the  fact,  that,  the  other  day,  4000  Mexicans,  with 
13  pieces  of  artillery,  behind  strong  intrencliments 
and  two  lines  of  parapets,  were  routed  by  900 
raw  Missourians;  300  killed,  as  many  more 
wounded,  all  their  artillery  captured,  as  well  as 
several  hundred  prisoners ;  and  that  not  one 
American  was  killed  in  the  affair?  This  is  positive 
fact. 

"  I  myself,  with  three  trappers,  cleared  a  fan- 
dango at  Taos,  armed  only  with  bowie-knives  — 

*  In  accordance  with  this  suggestion,  the  name  was 
changed  to  Brand.  The  mountaineers,  it  seems,  are  more 
sensitive  to  type  than  to  tomahawks;  and  poor  Ruxton,  who 
always  contemplated  another  expedition  among  them,  would 
sometimes  jestingly  speculate  upon  his  reception,  should 
they  learn  that  he  had  shown  them  up  in  print. 


14  INTRODUCTION 

some  score  Mexicans,  at  least,  being  in  the  room. 

"  With  regard  to  the  incidents  of  Indian  at- 
tacks, starvation,  cannibalism,  &c.,  I  have  in- 
vented not  one  out  of  my  own  head.  They  are  all 
matters  of  history  in  the  mountains ;  but  I  have 
no  doubt  jumbled  the  dramatis  persona;  one  with 
another,  and  may  have  committed  anachronisms." 

Scholars  may  detect  some  inaccuracies  here  and 
there,  such  as  scarcely  could  be  avoided  by  one 
who  wrote,  as  we  may  say,  in  the  saddle ;  but  these 
detract  nothing  from  the  essential  verity  of  the 
book.  Ruxton's  purpose  was  not  to  write  a  chron- 
icle, but  to  exhibit  vividly  the  mountain  men  and 
the  natives  in  relation  to  their  environment.  If 
he  wrought  disconnected  incidents  into  a  continu- 
ous story,  and  staged  men  together  who  may  have 
been  a  thousand  miles  apart  at  the  time,  it  was 
only  because,  to  this  extent,  "  fiction  is  the  most 
convincing  way  of  telling  the  truth." 

As  the  author  of  this  book  was  himself  a  true 
knight  of  the  wilderness  whose  brief  life  was  filled 
with  thrilling  adventures,  we  append  the  follow- 
ing memoir  by  one  of  his  friends :  — 

"  The  London  newspapers  of  October,  1848, 
contained  the  mournful  tidings  of  the  death,  at 
St.  Louis  on  the  Mississippi,  and  at  the  early  age 
of  twenty-eight,  of  Lieutenant  George  Frederick 
Ruxton,  formerly  of  her  Majesty's  89th  Regi- 
ment, the  author  of  the  following  sketches: 

"  Many   men,    even   in  the   most   enterprising 


INTRODUCTION  15 

periods  of  our  history,  have  been  made  the  sub- 
jects of  elaborate  biography  with  far  less  title  to 
the  honor  than  this  lamented  young  officer.  Time 
was  not  granted  him  to  embody  in  a  permanent 
shape  a  tithe  of  his  personal  experiences  and 
strange  adventures  in  three  quarters  of  the  globe. 
Coinsidering,  indeed,  the  amount  of  physical  labor 
he  underwent,  and  the  extent  of  the  fields  over 
which  his  wanderings  spread,  it  is  almost  sur- 
prising he  found  leisure  to  write  so  much. 

"  At  the  early  age  of  seventeen,  Mr.  Ruxton 
quitted  Sandhurst,  to  learn  the  practical  part  of 
a  soldier's  profession  in  the  civil  wars  of  Spain. 
He  obtained  a  commission  in  a  squadron  of  lan- 
cers then  attached  to  the  division  of  General  Diego 
Leon,  and  was  actively  engaged  in  several  of  the 
most  important  combats  of  the  campaign.  For 
his  marked  gallantry  on  these  occasions  he  re- 
ceived from  Queen  Isabella  II.  the  cross  of  the 
first  class  of  the  Order  of  St.  Fernando,  an  honor 
which  has  seldom  been  awarded  to  one  so  young. 

"  On  his  return  from  Spain  he  found  himself 
gazetted  to  a  commission  in  the  89th  Regiment ; 
and  it  was  whilst  serving  with  that  distinguished 
corps  in  Canada  that  he  first  became  acquainted 
with  the  stirring  scenes  of  Indian  life,  which  he 
has  since  so  graphically  portrayed.  His  eager 
and  enthusiastic  spirit  soon  became  wearied  with 
the  monotony  of  the  barrack-room ;  and,  yielding 
to  that  impulse  which  in  him  was  irresistibly  de- 


16  INTRODUCTION 

veloped,  he  resigned  his  commission,  and  directed 
his  steps  towards  the  stupendous  wilds  tenanted 
only  by  the  Red  Indian,  or  by  the  solitary  Ameri- 
can trapper. 

"  Those  familiar  with  Mr.  Ruxton's  writings 
cannot  fail  to  have  remarked  the  singular  delight 
with  which  he  dwells  upon  the  recollections  of  this 
portion  of  his  career,  and  the  longing  which  he  car- 
ried with  him,  to  the  hour  of  his  death,  for  a  re- 
turn to  those  scenes  of  primitive  freedom.  '  Al- 
though liable  to  an  accusation  of  barbarism,'  he 
writes,  '  I  must  confess  that  the  very  happiest  mo- 
ments of  my  life  have  been  spent  in  the  wilderness 
of  the  Far  West ;  and  I  never  recall  but  with  pleas- 
ure the  remembrance  of  my  solitary  camp  in  the 
Bayou  Salade,  with  no  friend  near  me  more  faith- 
ful than  my  rifle,  and  no  companions  more  sociable 
than  my  good  horse  and  mules,  or  the  attendant 
cayute  which  nightly  serenaded  us.  With  a  plenti- 
ful supply  of  dry  pine-logs  on  the  fire,  and  its 
cheerful  blaze  streaming  far  up  into  the  sky, 
illuminating  the  valley  far  and  near,  and  exhibit- 
ing the  animals,  with  well-filled  bellies,  standing 
contentedly  at  rest  over  their  picket-fire,  I  would 
sit  cross-legged,  enjoying  the  genial  warmth,  and, 
pipe  in  mouth,  watch  the  blue  smoke  as  it  curled 
upwards,  building  castles  in  its  vapory  wreaths, 
and,  in  the  fantastic  shapes  it  assumed,  peopling 
the  solitude  "wath  figures  of  those  far  away. 
Scarcely,  however,  did  I  ever  wish  to  change  such 


INTRODUCTION  17 

hours  of  freedom  for  all  the  luxuries  of  civilized 
life;  and  unnatural  and  extraordinary  as  it  may 
appear,  yet  such  is  the  fascination  of  the  life  of 
the  mountain  hunter,  that  I  believe  not  one  in- 
stance could  be  adduced  of  even  the  most  polished 
and  civilized  of  men,  who  had  once  tasted  the 
sweets  of  its  attendant  liberty,  and  freedom  from 
every  worldly  care,  not  regretting  the  moment 
when  he  exchanged  it  for  the  monotonous  life  of 
the  settlements,  nor  sighing  and  sighing  again 
once  more  to  partake  of  its  pleasures  and  allure- 
ments.' 

"  On  his  return  to  Europe  from  the  Far  West, 
Mr.  Ruxton,  animated  with  a  spirit  as  enterpris- 
ing and  fearless  as  that  of  Raleigh,  planned  a 
scheme  for  the  exploration  of  Central  Africa,  which 
was  thus  characterized  by  the  President  of  the 
Royal  Geographical  Society,  in  his  anniversary 
address  for  1845 :  '  To  my  great  surprise,  I  re- 
cently conversed  with  an  ardent  and  accomplished 
youth.  Lieutenant  Ruxton,  late  of  the  89th  Regi- 
ment, who  had  formed  the  daring  project  of 
traversing  Africa  in  the  parallel  of  the  southern 
tropic,  and  has  actually  started  for  this  purpose. 
Preparing  himself  by  previous  excursions  on  foot 
in  North  Africa  and  Algeria,  he  sailed  from  Liver- 
pool early  in  December  last,  in  the  Royalist,  for 
Ichaboe.  From  that  spot  he  was  to  repair  to 
Walvish  Bay,  where  we  have  already  mercantile 
establishments.     The    intrepid    traveler    had    re- 


18  INTRODUCTION 

ceived  from  the  agents  of  these  establishments  such 
favorable  accounts  of  the  nations  towards  the  in- 
terior, as  also  of  the  nature  of  the  climate,  that 
he  has  the  most  sanguine  hopes  of  being  able  to 
penetrate  to  the  central  region,  if  not  of  travers- 
ing it  to  the  Portuguese  colonics  of  Mozambique. 
If  this  be  accomplished,  then  indeed  will  Lieuten- 
ant Ruxton  have  acquired  for  himself  a  permanent 
name  among  British  travelers,  by  making  us  ac- 
quainted with  the  nature  of  the  axis  of  the  great 
continent  of  which  we  possess  the  southern  ex- 
tremity.' 

"  In  pursuance  of  this  hazardous  scheme,  Rux- 
ton, with  a  single  companion,  landed  on  the  coast 
of  Africa,  a  little  to  the  south  of  Ichaboe,  and 
commenced  his  journey  of  exploration.  But  it 
seemed  as  if  both  nature  and  man  had  combined 
to  baffle  the  execution  of  his  design.  The  course 
of  their  travel  lay  along  a  desert  of  moving  sand, 
where  no  water  was  to  be  found,  and  little  herbage, 
save  a  coarse  tufted  grass  and  twigs  of  the  resinous 
myrrh.  The  immediate  place  of  their  destination 
was  Angra  Peguena,  on  the  coast,  described  as  a 
frequented  station,  but  which  in  reality  was  de- 
serted. One  ship  only  was  in  the  offing  when  the 
travelers  arrived,  and  to  their  inexpressible  morti- 
fication they  discovered  that  she  was  outward 
bound.  No  trace  was  visible  of  the  river  or 
streams  laid  down  in  the  maps  as  falling  into  the 
sea  at  this  point,  and  no  resource  was  left  to  the 


INTRODUCTION  19 

travelers  save  that  of  retracing  their  steps  —  a 
labor  for  which  their  strength  was  hardly  ade- 
quate. But  for  the  opportune  assistance  of  a 
body  of  natives,  who  encountered  them  at  the  very 
moment  when  they  were  sinking  from  fatigue  and 
thirst,  Ruxton  and  his  companion  would  have  been 
added  to  the  long  catalogue  of  those  whose  lives 
have  been  sacrificed  in  the  attempt  to  explore  the 
interior  of  that  fatal  country. 

"  The  jealousy  of  the  traders,  and  of  the  mis- 
sionaries settled  on  the  African  coast,  who  con- 
stantly withheld  or  perverted  that  information 
which  was  absolutely  necessary  for  the  successful 
prosecution  of  the  journey,  induced  Ruxton  to 
abandon  the  attempt  for  the  present.  He  made, 
however,  several  interesting  excursions  towards  the 
interior,  and  more  especially  in  the  country  of 
the  Bosjesmans. 

"  Finding  his  own  resources  inadequate  for  the 
accomplishment  of  his  favorite  project,  ]Mr.  Rux- 
ton, on  his  return  to  England,  made  application 
for  Government  assistance.  But  though  this  de- 
mand was  not  altogether  refused,  it  having  been 
referred  to  the  Council  of  the  Royal  Geographical 
Society,  and  favorably  reported  upon  by  that 
body,  so  many  delays  interposed  that  Ruxton,  in 
disgust,  resolved  to  withdraw  from  the  scheme,  and 
to  abandon  the  field  of  African  research  which  he 
had  already  contemplated  from  its  borders. 

"  He  next  bent  his  steps  to  Mexico ;  and,  for- 


20  INTRODUCTION 

tunately,  has  presented  to  the  world  his  reminis- 
cences of  that  country,  in  one  of  the  most  fas- 
cinating" volumes  which  of  late  years  has  issued 
from  the  press. 

*'  It  would  however  appear  that  the  African 
scheme,  the  darling  project  of  his  life,  had  again 
recurred  to  him  at  a  later  period  ;  for  in  the  course 
of  the  present  spring,  before  setting  out  on  that 
journey  which  was  destined  to  be  his  last,  the  fol- 
lowing expressions  occur  in  one  of  his  letters :  — 

"  *  My  movements  are  uncertain,  for  I  am  try- 
ing to  get  up  a  yacht  voyage  to  Borneo  and  the 
Indian  Archipelago ;  have  volunteered  to  Govern- 
ment to  explore  Central  Africa ;  and  the  Abori- 
genes  Protection  Society  wish  me  to  go  out  to 
Canada  to  organize  the  Indian  tribes ;  whilst,  for 
my  own  part  and  inclination,  I  wish  to  go  to  all 
parts  of  the  world  at  once.' 

"  His  last  letter,  written  just  before  his  depar- 
ture from  England,  a  few  weeks  previous  to  his 
death,  will  hardly  be  read  by  anyone  who  ever 
knew  the  writer  without  a  tear  of  sympathy  for 
the  sad  fate  of  this  fine  young  man,  dying  miser- 
ably in  a  strange  land,  before  he  had  well  com- 
menced the  hazardous  journey  whose  excitement 
and  dangers  he  so  joyously  anticipated:  — 

*' '  As  you  say,  human  nature  can't  go  on  feed- 
ing on  civilized  fixings  in  this  big  village ;  and  this 
child  has  felt  like  going  west  for  many  a  month, 
being  "  half  froze  for  buffler-meat  and  mountain 


INTRODUCTION  SI 

doin's."  My  route  takes  me  via  New  York,  the 
Lakes,  and  St.  Louis,  to  Fort  Leavenworth  or  In- 
dependence, on  the  Indian  frontier.  Thence,  pack- 
ing my  "  possibles  "  on  a  mule,  and  mounting  a 
buffalo  horse  (Panchito,  if  he  is  alive),  I  strike  the 
Santa  Fe  trail  to  the  Arkansa,  away  up  that  river 
to  the  mountains,  winter  in  the  Bayou  Salade, 
where  Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  joined  the  Yutes, 
cross  the  mountains  next  spring  to  Great  Salt 
Lake  —  and  that's  far  enough  to  look  forward  to 
—  always  supposing  my  hair  is  not  lifted  by 
Comanche  or  Pawnee  on  the  scalping  route  of  the 
Coon  Creeks  and  Pawnee  Fork.' 

"  Poor  fellow !  he  spoke  lightly,  in  the  buoyancy 
of  youth  and  a  confident  spirit,  of  the  fate  he  little 
thought  to  meet,  but  which  too  surely  overtook 
him  —  not  indeed  by  Indian  blade,  but  by  the  no 
less  deadly  stroke  of  disease.  Another  motive,  be- 
sides that  love  of  rambling  and  adventure  which, 
once  conceived  and  indulged,  is  so  difficult  to  erad- 
icate, impelled  him  across  the  Atlantic.  He  had 
for  some  time  been  out  of  health  at  intervals,  and 
he  thought  the  air  of  his  beloved  prairies  would  be 
efficacious  to  work  a  cure.  In  a  letter  to  a  friend, 
in  the  month  of  May  last,  he  thus  referred  to  the 
probable  origin  of  the  evil :  — 

"  '  I  have  been  confined  to  my  room  for  many 
days,  from  the  effects  of  an  accident  I  met  with 
in  the  Rocky  Mountains,  having  been  spilt  from 


2a  INTRODUCTION 

the  bare  back  of  a  mule,  and  falling  on  the  sharp 
picket  of  an  Indian  lodge  on  the  small  of  my  back. 
I  fear  I  injured  my  spine,  for  I  have  never  felt  al- 
together the  thing  since,  and,  shortly  after  I  saw 
you,  the  symptoms  became  rather  ugly.  However, 
I  am  now  getting  round  again.' 

"  His  medical  advisers  shared  his  opinion  that 
he  had  sustained  internal  injury  from  this  ugly 
fall ;  and  it  is  not  improbable  that  it  was  the  re- 
mote, but  real  cause  of  his  dissolution.  From 
whatsoever  this  ensued,  it  will  be  a  source  of  deep 
and  lasting  regret  to  all  who  ever  enjoyed  oppor- 
tunities of  appreciating  the  high  and  sterling  quali- 
ties of  George  Frederick  Ruxton.  Few  men,  so 
prepossessing  on  first  acquaintance,  gained  so 
much  by  being  better  known.  With  great  natural 
abilities  and  the  most  dauntless  bravery,  he  united 
a  modesty  and  gentleness  peculiarly  pleasing. 

"  Had  he  lived,  and  resisted  his  friends'  re- 
peated solicitations  to  abandon  a  roving  life  and 
settle  down  in  England,  there  can  be  little  doubt 
that  he  would  have  made  his  name  eminent  on  the 
lists  of  those  daring  and  persevering  men,  whose 
travels  in  distant  and  dangerous  lands  have  ac- 
cumulated for  England,  and  for  the  world,  so  rich 
a  store  of  scientific  and  general  information.  And 
although  the  few  words  it  has  been  thought  right 
and  becoming  here  to  devote  to  his  memory,  will 
doubtless  be  more  particularly  welcome  to  his  per- 


INTRODUCTION  23 

sonal  friends,  we  are  persuaded  that  none  will  De- 
ruse  without  interest  this  brief  tribute  to  the  merits 
of  a  gallant  soldier  and  accomplished  English 
gentleman." 

In  the  present  edition  no  liberties  have  been 
taken  with  the  text  except  bj  correcting  a  few 
obvious  errors,  and  making  the  spelling  conform 
to  American  usage.  Footnotes  by  the  present 
editor  are  marked  {Ed)  ;  those  unsigned  are  by 
Ruxton  himself. 

One  useful  purpose  that  this  book  may  serve  is 
to  give  professional  hunters  and  trappers  their 
due  as  hard  working  men.  From  time  immemorial 
it  has  been  the  fasliion  to  look  down  upon  their  ilk 
as  lazy  vagabonds  "  too  trifling  to  work  for  a  liv- 
ing." Such  is  the  almost  universal  opinion  of 
people  who  never  have  taken  a  big  game  hunt  them- 
selves, never  even  have  seen  hunters  at  work  in  the 
wilderness,  but  know  them  only  as  they  take  their 
well-earned  ease  after  an  exhausting  chase. 

"  The  lazy  hunter  "  is  the  most  misjudged  of 
men;  for  really  there  is  no  harder  labor  than  the 
pursuit  of  wild  animals  for  a  livelihood.  The 
libelous  epithet  perhaps  came  in  vogue  from  the 
fact  that  hunting  and  trapping  are  apt  to  unfit 
a  man  for  settled  habits  of  industry.  Or  it  may 
have  come  from  observing  the  whole-souled  enjoy- 
ment with  which  the  hunter  pursues  his  occupa- 
tion. We  have  not  yet  got  rid  of  the  Puritan  no- 
tion that  no  effort  is  worthy  unless  it  is  painful 


24  /  INTRODUCTION 

to  the  spirit.  The  freeman  of  the  woods  calls 
ha  labor  sport,  and  he  laughs,  in  retrospect,  at  all 
ihe  cruel  toil,  the  starving  and  freezing  and  broken 
bones.  Being  utterly  independent  he  seldom  does 
things  that  "  go  against  the  grain,"  save  as  he  is 
driven  by  necessity.  But  how  sharp  was  the  lash 
of  that  necessity,  how  often  it  stung  body  and  soul, 
how  many  a  hunter  "  went  under,"  even  in  the  old 
days  when  game  was  in  the  greatest  abundance, 
is  shown  with  perfect  fidelity  to  truth  in  this  pic- 
ture of  "  Life  in  the  Far  West." 

Horace  Kephart, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

CHAPTER  I 

AWAY  to  the  head-waters  of  the  Platte, 
where  several  small  streams  run  into  the 
south  fork  of  that  river,  and  head  in  the 
broken  ridges  of  the  "  Divide  "  which  separates 
the  valleys  of  the  Platte  and  the  Arkansa,  were 
camped  a  band  of  trappers  on  a  creek  called 
Bijou.  It  was  the  month  of  October,  when  the 
early  frosts  of  the  coming  winter  had  crisped  and 
dyed  with  sober  brown  the  leaves  of  the  cherry 
and  quaking  ash  belting  the  brooks ;  and  the 
ridges  and  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  were 
already  covered  with  a  glittering  mantle  of  snow, 
sparkling  in  the  still  powerful  rays  of  the  autumn 
sun. 

The  camp  had  all  the  appearance  of  per- 
manency ;  for  not  only  did  it  comprise  one  or 
two  unusually  comfortable  shanties,  but  the 
numerous  stages  on  which  huge  strips  of  buffalo- 
meat  were  hanging  in  process  of  cure,  showed 
that  the  party  had  settled  themselves  here  in 
order  to  lay  in  a  store  of  provisions,  or,  as  it  is 

termed  in   the  language   of  the  mountains,   "  to 

27 


28  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

make  meat."  Round  the  camp  fed  twelve  or  fif- 
teen mules  and  horses,  their  fore-legs  confined  bj 
hobbles  of  rawhide ;  and,  guarding  these  animals, 
two  men  paced  backwards  and  forwards,  driving 
in  the  stragglers,  ascending  ever  and  anon  the 
bluffs  which  overhung  the  river,  and  leaning  on 
their  long  rifles,  whilst  they  swept  with  their  eyes 
the  surrounding  prairie.  Three  or  four  fires 
burned  in  the  encampment,  at  some  of  which 
Indian  women  carefully  tended  sundry  steaming 
pots ;  whilst  round  one,  which  was  in  the  center 
of  it,  four  or  five  stalwart  hunters,  clad  in  buck- 
skin, sat  cross-legged,  pipe  in  mouth. 

They  were  a  trapping  party  from  the  north 
fork  of  Platte,  on  their  way  to  wintering-ground 
in  the  more  southern  valley  of  the  Arkansa ;  some, 
indeed,  meditating  a  more  extended  trip,  even  to 
the  distant  settlements  of  New  Mexico,  the  para- 
dise of  mountaineers.  The  elder  of  the  company 
was  a  tall  gaunt  man,  with  a  face  browned  by 
twenty  years'  exposure  to  the  extreme  climate  of 
the  mountains ;  his  long  black  hair,  as  yet  scarcely 
tinged  with  gray,  hanging  almost  to  his  shoul- 
ders, but  his  cheeks  and  chin  clean  shaven,  after 
the  fashion  of  the  mountain-men.  His  dress  was 
the  usual  hunting-frock  of  buckskin,  with  long 
fringes  down  the  seams,  with  pantaloons  similarly 
ornamented,  and  moccasins  of  Indian  make. 
Whilst  his  companions  puffed  their  pipes  in  si- 
lence, he  narrated   a   few  of  his   former  experi- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  29 

ences  of  western  life ;  and  whilst  the  buffalo  hump- 
ribs  and  tenderloin  are  singing  away  in  the  pot, 
preparing  for  the  hunters'  supper,  we  will  note 
down  the  yarn  as  it  spins  from  his  lips,  giving  it 
in  the  language  spoken  in  the  "  Far  West  " :  — 

*'  'Twas  about  calf-time,  maybe  a  little  later, 
and  not  a  hundred  year  ago  by  a  long  chalk,  that 
the  biggest  kind  of  rendezvous  was  held  '  to '  to 
Independence,  a  mighty  handsome  little  location 
away  up  on  old  Missoura.  A  pretty  smart  lot 
of  boys  was  camped  thar,  about  a  quarter  from 
the  town,  and  the  way  the  whisky  flowed  that 
time  was  some  now,  I  can  tell  you.  Thar  was  old 
Sam  Owins  —  him  as  got  rubbed  out  *  by  the 
Spaniards  at  Sacramenty,  or  Chihuahuy,  this  boss 
doesn't  know  which,  but  he  went  under  f  any- 
how. Well,  Sam  had  his  train  along,  ready  to 
hitch  up  for  the  Mexican  country  —  twenty  thun- 
derin'  big  Pittsburgh  wagons ;  and  the  way  his 
Santa  Fe  boys  took  in  the  liquor  beat  all  —  eh, 
Bill?  " 

"  Well,  it  did." 

"  Bill  Bent  —  his  boys  camped  the  other  side 
the  trail,  and  they  was  all  mountain-men,  wagh! 
—  and  Bill  Williams,  and  Bill  Tharpe  (the 
Pawnees  took  his  hair  on  Pawnee  Fork  last 
spring)  :  three  Bills,  and  them  three's  all  gone 
under.     Surely  Hatcher  went  out  that  time;  and 

*  Killed,  "I  both  terms  adapted  from  the  Indian  figura- 
t  Died,      J      tive  language. 


30  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

wasn't  Bill  Garey  along,  too?  Didn't  him  and 
Chabonard  sit  in  camp  for  twenty  hours  at  a  deck 
of  euker?  Them  was  Bent's  Indian  traders  up  on 
Arkansa.  Poor  Bill  Bent !  them  Spaniards  made 
meat  of  him.  He  lost  his  topknot  to  Taos.  A 
clever  man  was  Bill  Bent  as  /  ever  know'd  trade 
a  robe  or  throw  a  bufler  in  his  tracks.  Old  St. 
Vrain  could  knock  the  hind-sight  off  him  though, 
when  it  came  to  shootin',  and  old  Silverheels  spoke 
true,  she  did:  '  plumcenter  '  she  was,  eh.''  " 

**  Well,  she  wasn't  nothin'  else." 

"  The  Greasers  *  paid  for  Bent's  scalp,  they  tell 
me.  Old  St.  Vrain  went  out  of  Santa  Fe  with  a 
company  of  mountain-men,  and  the  way  they  made 
'em  sing  out  was  slick  as  shootin'.  He  '  counted 
a  coup,'  did  St.  Vrain.  He  throwed  a  Pueblo  as 
had  on  poor  Bent's  shirt.  I  guess  he  tickled  that 
nigger's  hump-ribs.  Fort  William  f  ain't  the 
lodge  it  was,  an'  never  will  be  agin,  now  he's  gone 
under ;  but  St.  Vrain's  '  pretty  much  of  a  gentle- 
man,' too ;  if  he  ain't,  I'll  be  dog-gone  —  eh, 
Bill.?" 

"  He  is  so-o." 

"  Chavez  had  his  wagons  along.  He  was  only 
a  Spaniard  anyhow,  and  some  of  his  teamsters 
put  a  ball  into  him  his  next  trip,  and  made  a  raise 
of  his  dollars,  wagh !     Uncle  Sam  hung  'em  for 

*  The  Mexicans   are  called  "  Spaniards  "   or  "  Greasers  " 
(from  their  greasy  appearance)   by  the  Western  people, 
t  Bent's  Indian  trading  fort  on  the  Arkansa. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  31 

it,  I  heard,  but  can't  b'lieve  it,  nohow.  If  them 
Spaniards  wasn't  bom  for  shootin',  why  was 
beaver  made?  You  was  with  us  that  spree, 
Jemmy?  " 

"  No  sirre~e;  I  went  out  when  Spiers  lost  his 
animals  on  Cimmaron:  a  hundred  and  forty  mules 
and  oxen  was  froze  that  night,  wagh !  " 

"  Surely  Black  Harris  was  thar ;  and  the 
darndest  liar  was  Black  Harris  —  for  lies  tumbled 
out  of  his  mouth  like  boudins  out  of  a  bufler's 
stomach.  He  was  the  child  as  saw  the  putrefied 
forest  in  the  Black  Hills.  Black  Harris  come  in 
from  Laramie;  he'd  been  trapping  three  year  an' 
more  on  Platte  and  the  other  side;  and,  when  he 
got  into  Liberty,  he  fixed  himself  right  off  like 
a  Saint  Louiy  dandy.  Well,  he  sat  to  dinner  one 
day  in  the  tavern,  and  a  lady  says  to  him  — 

"  '  Well,  Mister  Harris,  I  hear  you're  a  great 
trav'ler.' 

" '  Trav'ler,  marm,'  says  Black  Harris,  '  this 
nigger's  no  trav'ler ;  I  ar'  a  trapper,  marm,  a 
mountain-man,  wagh ! ' 

"  *  Well,  Mister  Harris,  trappers  are  great 
trav'lers,  and  you  goes  over  a  sight  of  ground  in 
your  perishinations,  I'll  be  bound  to  say.' 

" '  A  sight,  marm,  this  coon's  gone  over,  if 
that's  the  way  your  stick  floats.*  I've  trapped 
beaver  on  Platte  and  Arkansa,  and  away  up  on 

*  Meaning  —  if   that's   what  you  mean.    The   "stick"   is 
tied  to  the  beaver-trap  by  a  string,  and,  floating  on  the 


S2  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Missoura  and  Yaller  Stone;  I've  trapped  on  Col- 
umbia, on  Lewis  Fork,  and  Green  River;  I've 
trapped,   marm,  on  Grand  River  and  the  Heely 

(Gila).     I've    fout   the    Blackfoot    (and    d d 

bad  Injuns  they  are)  ;  I've  raised  the  hair  *  of 
more  than  one  Apach,  and  made  a  Rapaho  '  come  ' 
afore  now ;  I've  trapped  in  heav'n,  in  airth,  and 
h — ;  and  scalp  my  old  head,  marm,  but  I've  seen 
a  putrefied  forest.' 

"  '  La,  Mister  Harris,  a  what  ?  ' 

" '  A  putrefied  forest,  marm,  as  sure  as  m.y 
rifle's  got  hind-sights,  and  she  shoots  center.  I 
was  out  on  the  Black  Hills,  Bill  Sublette  knows 
the  time  —  the  year  it  rained  fire  —  and  every- 
body knows  when  that  was.  If  thar  wasn't  cold 
doins  about  that  time,  this  child  wouldn't  say  so. 
The  snow  was  about  fifty  foot  deep,  and  the  bufler 
lay  dead  on  the  ground  like  bees  after  a  beein' ; 
not  whar  we  was  tho',  for  thar  was  no  bufler,  and 
no  meat,  and  me  and  my  band  had  been  livin' 
on  our  moccasins  (leastwise  the  parflesh  f)  for 
six  weeks ;  and  poor  doins  that  feedin'  is,  marm, 
as  you'll  never  know.  One  day  we  crossed  a 
cailon  and  over  a  divide,  and  got  into  a  peraira, 
whar  was  green  grass,  and  green  trees,  and  green 
leaves  on  the  trees,  and  birds  singing  in  the  green 

water,  points  out  its  position,  should  a  beaver  have  carried 
it  away. 

*  Scalped. 

t  Soles  made  of  buffalo  hide. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  S8 

leaves,  and  this  in  Febrary,  wagh !  Our  animals 
was  like  to  die  when  they  see  the  green  grass,  and 
we  all  sung  out,  "  Hurraw  for  summer  doins." 

"  '  "  Hyar  goes  for  meat,"  says  I,  and  I  jest  ups 
old  Ginger  at  one  of  them  singing-birds,  and  down 
come  the  crittur  elegant ;  its  darned  head  spinning 
away  from  the  body,  but  never  stops  singing; 
and  when  I  takes  up  the  meat,  I  finds  it  stone, 
wagh !  "  Hyar's  damp  powder  and  no  fire  to  dry 
it,"  I  says,  quite  skeared. 

"  *  "  Fire  be  dogged,"  says  old  Rube.  "  Hyar's 
a  hoss,  as'll  make  fire  come,"  and  with  that  he 
takes  his  axe  and  lets  drive  at  a  cotton  wood. 
Schr-u-k  —  goes  the  axe  agin  the  tree,  and  out 
comes  a  bit  of  the  blade  as  big  as  my  hand.  We 
looks  at  the  animals,  and  thar  they  stood  shak- 
ing over  the  grass,  which  I'm  dog-gone  if  it  wasn't 
stone,  too.  Young  Sublette  comes  up,  and  he'd 
been  clerking  down  to  the  fort  on  Platte,  so  he 
know'd  something.  He  looks  and  looks,  and 
scrapes  the  trees  with  his  butcher  knife,  and 
snaps  the  grass  like  pipe-stems,  and  breaks  the 
leaves  a-snappin'  like  Califomy  shells. 

"*"  What's  all  this,  boy?"  I  asks. 

"  <  «  Putrefactions,"  says  he,  looking  smart ; 
"  putrefactions,  or  I'm  a  nigger."  ' 

"  '  La,  Mister  Harris,'  says  the  lady,  *  putre- 
factions !  why,  did  the  leaves  and  the  trees  and  the 
grass  smell  badly.''' 

"  '  Smell    badly,    marm ! '    says    Black    Harris  ; 


34  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

*  would  a  skunk  stink  if  he  was  froze  to  stone? 
No,  marm,  this  child  didn't  know  what  putrefac- 
tion was,  and  young  Sublette's  varsion  wouldn't 
shine  nohow,  so  I  chips  a  piece  out  of  a  tree  and 
puts  it  in  my  trap-sack,  and  carries  it  in  safe  to 
Laramie.  Well,  old  Captain  Stewart  (a  clever 
man  was  that,  though  he  was  an  Englishman),  he 
comes  along  next  spring,  and  a  Dutch  doctor 
chap  was  along  too.  I  shows  him  the  piece  I 
chipped  out  of  the  tree,  and  he  called  it  a  putre- 
faction too ;  and  so,  marm,  if  that  wasn't  a  putre- 
fied peraira,  what  was  it?  For  this  hoss  doesn't 
know,  and  lie  knows  fat  cow  from  poor  bull,  any- 
how.' 

"  Well,  old  Black  Harris  is  gone  under  too,  I 
believe.  He  went  to  the  Parks  trapping  with  a 
Vide  Poche  Frenchman,  who  shot  him  for  his  bacca 
and  traps.  Darn  them  Frenchmen,  they're  no  ac- 
count any  way  you  lays  your  sight.  (Any  bacca 
in  your  bag,  Bill?  this  beaver  feels  like  chawing.) 

*'  Well,  anyhow,  thar  was  the  camp,  and  they 
was  goin'  to  put  out  the  next  morning;  and  the 
last  as  come  out  of  Independence  was  that  ar 
Englishman.  He'd  a  nor-west  *  capote  on,  and 
a  two-shoot  gun  rifled.  Well,  them  English  are 
darned  fools ;  they  can't  fix  a  rifle  any  ways ;  but 

*  The  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  having  amalgamated  with 
the  American  North-West  Company,  is  known  by  the  name 
"  North-West "  to  the  southern  trappers.  Their  employ ds 
usually  wear  Canadian  capotes. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  ^5 

that  one  did  shoot  some;  leastwise  he  made  it 
throw  plum-center.  He  made  the  bujBer  come, 
he  did,  and  fout  well  at  Pawnee  Fork  too.  What 
was  his  name?  All  the  boys  called  him  Cap'en, 
and  he  got  his  fixings  from  old  Choteau ;  but  what 
he  wanted  out  thar  in  the  mountains,  I  never  jest 
rightly  know'd.  He  was  no  trader,  nor  a  trap- 
per, and  flung  about  his  dollars  right  smart. 
Thar  was  old  grit  in  him,  too,  and  a  hair  of  the 
black  b'ar  at  that.*  They  say  he  took  the  bark 
off  the  Shians  when  he  cleared  out  of  the  village 
with  old  Beavertail's  squaw.  He'd  been  on  Yal- 
ler  Stone  afore  that:  Leclerc  know'd  him  in  the 
Blackfoot,  and  up  in  the  Chippeway  country; 
and  he  had  the  best  powder  as  ever  I  flashed 
through  life,  and  his  gun  was  handsome,  that's 
a  fact.  Them  thar  locks  was  grand ;  and  old 
Jake  Hawken's  nephey  (him  as  trapped  on  Heeley 
that  time)  told  me,  the  other  day,  as  he  saw  an 
English  gun  on  Arkansa  last  winter  as  beat  all 
off  hand. 

"  Nigh  upon  two  hundred  dollars  I  had  in  my 
possibles,  when  I  went  to  that  camp  to  see  the 
boys  afore  they  put  out;  and  you  know.  Bill,  as 
I  sat  to  euchre  and  seven  up  till  every  cent  was 
gone. 

"  '  Take  back  twenty,  old  coon,'  says  Big  John. 

"  '  H — 's  full  of  such  takes  back,'  says  I ;  and 
I  puts  back  to  town  and  fetches  the  rifle  and  the 

*  A  spice  of  the  devil. 


36  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

old  mule,  puts  my  traps  into  the  sack,  gets  credit 
for  a  couple  of  pounds  of  powder  at  Owin's  store, 
and  hyar  I  ar  on  Bijou,  with  half  a  pack  of  beaver, 
and  running  meat  yet,  old  hoss ;  so  put  a  log  on, 
and  let's  have  a  smoke. 

"  Hurraw,  Jake,  old  coon,  bear  a  hand,  and  let 
the  squaw  put  them  tails  in  the  pot;  for  sun's 
down,  and  we'll  have  to  put  out  pretty  early  to 
reach  Black  Tail  by  this  time  to-morrow.  Who's 
fust  guard,  boys?  them  cussed  Rapahos  will  be 
after  the  animals  to-night,  or  I'm  no  judge  of 
Injun  sign.     How  many  did  you  see,  Maurice?  " 

"  Enfant  de  garce,  me  see  bout  honderd,  when 
I  pass  Squirrel  Creek,  one  dam  water-party, 
parceque  they  no  bosses,  and  have  de  lariats  for 
steal  des  animaux.  Maybe  de  Yutas  in  Bayou 
Salade." 

"  We'll  be  having  trouble  to-night,  I'm  think- 
ing, if  the  devils  are  about.  Whose  band  was  it, 
Maurice?  " 

"  Slim-Face  — - 1  see  him  ver  close  —  is  out ; 
mais  I  think  it  White  Wolf's." 

**  White  Wolf,  maybe,  will  lose  his  hair  if  he  and 
his  band  knock  round  here  too  often.  That  In- 
jun put  me  afoot  when  we  was  out  on  Sandy 
that  fall.     This  nigger  owes  him  one,  anyhow." 

"  H — 's  full  of  White  Wolves :  go  ahead,  and 
roll  out  some  of  your  doins  across  the  plains  that 
time." 

"  You  seed  sights  that  spree,  eh,  boy?  '* 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  37 

"  Well,  we  did.  Some  of  'em  got  their  flints 
fixed  this  side  of  Pawnee  Fork,  and  a  heap  of 
mule-meat  went  wolfing.  Just  by  Little  Arkansa 
we  saw  the  first  Injun.  Me  and  young  Somes 
was  ahead  for  meat,  and  I  had  hobbled  the  old 
mule  and  was  approaching  some  goats,*  when  I 
see  the  critturs  turn  back  their  heads  and  jump 
right  away  from  me.  *  Hurra w,  Dick  1 '  I  shouts, 
'  hyar's  brown-skin  acomin',  and  off  I  makes  for 
the  mule.  ^  The  young  greenhorn  sees  the  goats 
runnin'  up  to  him,  and  not  being  up  to  Injun  ways, 
blazes  at  the  first  and  knocks  him  over.  Jest 
then  seven  darned  red  heads  top  the  bluff,  and 
seven  Pawnees  come  a-screechin'  upon  us.  I  cuts 
the  hobbles  and  jumps  on  the  mule,  and,  when  I 
looks  back,  there  was  Dick  Somes  ramming  a  ball 
down  his  gun  like  mad,  and  the  Injuns  flinging 
their  arrows  at  him  pretty  smart,  I  tell  you. 
*  Hurraw,  Dick,  mind  your  hair,'  and  I  ups  old 
Greaser  and  let  one  Injun  '  have  it,'  as  was  going 
plum  into  the  boy  with  his  lance.  He  turned  on 
his  back  handsome,  and  Dick  gets  the  ball  down 
at  last,  blazes  away,  and  drops  another.  Then 
we  charged  on  'em,  and  they  clears  off  like  runnin' 
cows ;  and  I  takes  the  hair  off  the  heads  of  the  two 
we  made  meat  of;  and  I  do  b'lieve  thar's  some  of 
them  scalps  on  my  old  leggings  yet. 

**  Well,  Dick  was  as  full  of  arrows  as  a  porky- 

*  Antelope  are  frequently  called  "  goats "  by  the  moun- 
taineers. 


68  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

pine;  one  was  sticking  right  through  his  cheek, 
one  in  his  meat-bag,  and  two  more  'bout  his  hump- 
ribs,  I  tuk  'em  all  out  slick,  and  away  we  go 
to  camp  (for  they  was  jost  a-campin'  when  we 
went  ahead),  and  carry  in'  the  goat  too.  Thar 
was  a  hurroo  when  we  rode  in  with  the  scalps 
at  the  end  of  our  guns.  'Injuns!  Injuns!'  was 
the  cry  from  the  greenhorns ;  '  we'll  be  'tacked 
to-night,  that's  certain.' 

"  '  'Tacked  be ,'  says  old  Bill ;  '  ain't  we 

men  too,  and  white  at  that?  Look  to  your  guns, 
boys ;  send  out  a  strong  hoss-guard  with  the  ani- 
mals, and  keep  your  eyes  skinned.' 

"  Well,  as  soon  as  the  animals  were  unhitched 
from  the  wagons,  the  guvner  sends  out  a  strong 
guard,  seven  boys,  and  old  hands  at  that.  It 
was  pretty  nigh  upon  sundown,  and  Bill  had  just 
sung  out  to  corral.  The  boys  were  drivin'  in 
the  animals,  and  we  were  all  standing  round  to 
get  'em  in  slick,  when,  *  howgh-owgli-owgh-owgh,' 
we  hears  right  behind  the  bluff,  and  'bout  a  minute 
and  a  perfect  crowd  of  Injuns  gallops  down  upon 
the  animals.  Wagh !  warn't  thar  hoopin' !  We 
jump  for  the  guns,  but  before  we  get  to  the  fires, 
the  Injuns  were  among  the  cavayard.  I  saw 
Ned  Collyer  and  his  brother,  who  were  in  the  hoss- 
guard,  let  drive  at  'em ;  but  twenty  Pawnees  were 
round  'em  before  the  smoke  cleared  from  their 
rifles ;  and  when  the  crowd  broke,  the  two  boys 
were  on  the  ground  and  their  hair  gone.     Well, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  39 

that  ar  Englishman  just  saved  the  cavayard. 
He  had  his  horse,  a  regular  buffalo-runner,  pick- 
eted round  the  fire  quite  handy,  and  as  soon  as  he 
sees  the  fix,  he  jumps  upon  her  and  rides  right 
into  the  thick  of  the  mules,  and  passes  through 
'em,  firing  his  two-shoot  gun  at  the  Injuns ;  and, 
by  gor,  he  made  two  come.  The  mules,  which 
was  a-snortin'  with  funk  and  running  before  the 
Injuns,  as  soon  as  they  see  the  Englishman's 
mare  (mules  '11  go  to  h —  after  a  horse,  you  all 
know),  followed  her  right  into  the  corral,  and 
thar  they  was  safe.  Fifty  Pawnees  came  screechin' 
after  'em,  but  we  was  ready  that  time,  and  the 
way  we  throw'd  'em  was  something  handsome,  I 
tell  you.  But  three  of  the  hoss-guard  got 
skeared  —  leastwise  their  mules  did,  and  carried 
'em  off  into  the  peraira,  and  the  Injuns,  having 
enough  of  us,  dashed  after  'em  right  away.  Them 
poor  devils  looked  back  miserable  now,  with  about 
a  hundred  red  varmints  tearin'  after  their  hair, 
and  whooping  like  mad.  Young  Jem  Bulcher  was 
the  last ;  and  when  he  seed  it  was  no  use,  and  his 
time  was  nigh,  he  throw'd  himself  off  the  mule, 
and  standing  as  upright  as  a  hickory  wiping-stick, 
he  waves  his  hand  to  us,  and  blazes  away  at  the 
first  Injun  as  come  up,  and  dropped  him  slick; 
but  the  moment  after,  you  may  guess,  he  died. 

"  We  could  do  nothin',  for,  before  our  guns 
were  loaded,  all  three  were  dead  and  their  scalps 
gone.     Five  of  our  boys  got  rubbed  out  that  time, 


4>0  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

and  seven  Injuns  lay  wolf's  meat,  while  a  many 
more  went  away  gut-shot,  I'll  lay.  Hows'ever, 
five  of  us  went  under,  and  the  Pawnees  made  a  raise 
of  a  dozen  mules,  wagh !  " 

Thus  far,  in  his  own  words,  we  have  accom- 
panied the  old  hunter  in  his  tale ;  and  probably 
he  would  have  taken  us,  by  the  time  that  the 
Squaw  Chilipat  had  pronounced  the  beaver-tails 
cooked,  safely  across  the  grand  prairies  —  ford- 
ing Cotton  Wood,  Turkey  Creek,  Little  Arkansa, 
Walnut  Creek,  and  Pawnee  Fork  —  passed  the  fire- 
less  route  of  the  Coon  Creeks,  through  a  sea  of 
fat  buffalo-meat,  without  fuel  to  cook  it;  have 
struck  the  big  river,  and,  leaving  at  the  Crossing 
the  wagons  destined  for  Santa  Fe,  have  trailed  us 
up  the  Arkansa  to  Bent's  Fort ;  thence  up  Boiling 
Spring,  across  the  divide  over  to  the  southern 
fork  of  the  Platte,  away  up  to  the  Black  Hills, 
and  finally  camped  us,  with  hair  still  preserved, 
in  the  beaver-abounding  valleys  of  the  Sweet 
Water,  and  Cache  la  Poudre,  under  the  rugged 
shadow  of  the  Wind  River  Mountains ;  if  it  had 
not  so  happened,  at  this  juncture,  as  all  our  moun- 
taineers sat  cross-legged  round  the  fire,  pipe  in 
mouth,  and  with  Indian  gravity  listened  to  the 
yam  of  the  old  trapper,  interrupting  him  only 
with  an  occasional  wagh !  or  with  the  exclamations 
of  some  participator  in  the  events  then  under 
narration,  who  would  every  now  and  then  put  in 
a    corroborative, — "  This    child    remembers    that 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  41 

fix,"  or,  "  hyar's  a  nigger  lifted  hair  that  spree," 
&c. —  that  a  whizzing  noise  was  heard  in  the  air, 
followed  by  a  sharp  but  suppressed  cry  from  one 
of  the  hunters. 

In  an  instant  the  mountaineers  had  sprung 
from  their  seats,  and,  seizing  the  ever-ready  rifle, 
each  one  had  thrown  himself  on  the  ground  a  few 
paces  beyond  the  light  of  the  fire  (for  it  was  now 
nightfall)  ;  but  not  a  word  escaped  them,  as,  ly- 
ing close,  with  their  keen  eyes  directed  towards 
the  gloom  of  the  thicket,  near  which  the  camp  was 
placed,  with  rifles  cocked,  they  waited  a  renewal 
of  the  attack.  Presently  the  leader  of  the  band, 
no  other  than  Killbuck,  who  had  so  lately  been 
recounting  some  of  his  experiences  across  the 
plains,  and  than  whom  no  more  crafty  woodsman 
or  more  expert  trapper  ever  tracked  a  deer  or 
grained  a  beaver-skin,  raised  his  tall  leather-clad 
form,  and,  placing  his  hand  over  his  mouth,  made 
the  prairie  ring  with  the  wild  protracted  note 
of  an  Indian  war-whoop.  This  was  instantly  re- 
peated from  the  direction  where  the  animals  be- 
longing to  the  camp  were  grazing,  under  the 
charge  of  the  horse-guard.  Three  shrill  whoops 
answered  the  warning  of  the  leader,  and  showed 
that  the  guard  was  on  the  watch,  and  understood 
the  signal.  However,  with  the  manifestation  of 
their  presence,  the  Indians  appeared  to  be  satis- 
fied ;  or,  what  is  more  probable,  the  act  of  aggres- 
sion had  been  committed  by  some  daring  young 


42  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

warrior,  who,  being  out  on  his  first  expedition, 
desired  to  strike  the  first  coup,  and  thus  signalize 
himself  at  the  outset  of  the  campaign.  After 
waiting  some  few  minutes,  expecting  a  renewal  of 
the  attack,  the  mountaineers  in  a  body  rose  from 
the  ground  and  made  towards  the  animals,  with 
which  they  presently  returned  to  the  camp ;  and 
after  carefully  hobbling  and  securing  them  to 
pickets  firmly  driven  into  tlie  ground,  mounting 
an  additional  guard,  and  examining  the  neighbor- 
ing thicket,  they  once  more  assembled  round  the 
fire,  relit  their  pipes,  and  puffed  away  the  cheer- 
ing weed  as  composedly  as  if  no  such  being  as  a 
Redskin,  thirsting  for  their  lives,  was  within  a 
thousand  miles  of  their  perilous  encampment. 

"  If  ever  thar  was  bad  Injuns  on  these  plains,'* 
at  last  growled  Killbuck,  biting  hard  the  pipe- 
stem  between  his  teeth,  "  it's  these  Rapahos,  and 
the  meanest  kind  at  that." 

"  Can't  beat  the  Blackfeet,  anyhow,"  chimed 
in  one  La  Bonte,  from  the  Yellow  Stone  country, 
a  fine  handsome  specimen  of  a  mountaineer. 
"  However,  one  of  you  quit  this  arrow  out  of  my 
hump,"  he  continued,  bending  forwards  to  the  fire, 
and  exhibiting  an  arrow  sticking  out  under  his 
right  shoulder-blade,  and  a  stream  of  blood  tric- 
kling down  his  buckskin  coat  from  the  wound. 

This  his  nearest  neighbor  essayed  to  do ;  but 
finding,  after  a  tug,  that  it  "  would  not  come," 
expressed  his  opinion  that  the  offending  weapon 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  48 

would  have  to  be  "  butchered "  out.  This  was 
accordingly  effected  with  the  ready  blade  of  a 
scalp-knife ;  and  a  handful  of  beaver-fur  being 
placed  on  the  wound,  and  secured  by  a  strap  of 
buckskin  round  the  body,  the  wounded  man  donned 
his  hunting-shirt  once  more,  and  coolly  set  about 
lighting  his  pipe,  his  rifle  lying  across  his  lap 
cocked  and  ready  for  use. 

It  was  now  near  midnight  —  dark  and  misty ; 
and  the  clouds,  rolling  away  to  the  eastward  from 
the  lofty  ridges  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  were 
gradually  obscuring  the  dim  starlight.  As  the 
lighter  vapors  faded  from  the  mountains,  a  thick 
black  cloud  succeeded  them,  and  settled  over  the 
loftier  peaks  of  the  chain,  faintly  visible  through 
the  gloom  of  night,  whilst  a  mass  of  fleecy  scud 
soon  overspread  the  whole  sky.  A  hollow  moan- 
ing sound  crept  through  the  valley,  and  the  upper 
branches  of  the  cotton  woods,  with  their  withered 
leaves,  began  to  rustle  with  the  first  breath  of 
the  coming  storm.  Huge  drops  of  rain  fell  at 
intervals,  hissing  as  they  dropped  into  the  blazing 
fires,  and  pattering  on  the  skins  with  w^hich  the 
hunters  hurriedly  covered  the  exposed  baggage. 
The  mules  near  the  camp  cropped  the  grass  with 
quick  and  greedy  bites  round  the  circuit  of  their 
pickets,  as  if  conscious  that  the  storm  would  soon 
prevent  their  feeding,  and  already  humped  their 
backs  as  the  chilling  rain  fell  upon  their  flanks. 
The  prairie  wolves  crept  closer  to  the  camp,  and 


44»  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

in  the  confusion  that  ensued  from  the  hurry  of 
the  trappers  to  cover  the  perishable  portions  of 
their  equipment,  contrived  more  than  once  to  dart 
off  with  a  piece  of  meat,  when  their  peculiar  and 
mournful  chiding  would  be  heard  as  they  fought 
for  the  possession  of  the  ravished  morsel. 

When  everything  was  duly  protected,  the  men 
set  to  work  to  spread  their  beds ;  those  who  had 
not  troubled  themselves  to  erect  a  shelter,  getting 
under  the  lee  of  the  piles  of  packs  and  saddles ; 
whilst  Killbuck,  disdaining  even  such  care  of  his 
carcass,  threw  his  buffalo  robe  on  the  bare  ground, 
declaring  his  intention  to  "  take  "  what  was  com- 
ing at  all  hazards,  and  "  anyhow."  Selecting  a 
high  spot,  he  drew  his  knife  and  proceeded  to 
cut  drains  found  it,  to  prevent  the  water  running 
into  him  as  he  lay ;  then  taking  a  single  robe,  he 
carefully  spread  it,  placing  under  the  end  furthest 
from  the  fire  a  large  stone  brought  from  the 
creek.  Having  satisfactorily  adjusted  this  pil- 
low, he  added  another  robe  to  the  one  already  laid, 
and  placed  over  all  a  Navajo  blanket,  supposed 
to  be  impervious  to  rain.  Then  he  divested  him- 
self of  his  pouch  and  powder-horn,  which,  with 
his  rifle,  he  placed  inside  his  bed,  and  quickly  cov- 
ered up  lest  the  wet  should  reach  them.  Hav- 
ing performed  these  operations  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  lighted  his  pipe  by  the  hissing  embers  of  the 
half-extinguished  fire  (for  by  this  time  the  rain 
poured  in  torrents),  and  went  the  rounds  of  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  45 

picketed  animals,  cautioning  the  guard  round  the 
camp  to  keep  their  "  eyes  skinned,  for  there  would 
be  powder  burned  before  morning."  Then  return- 
ing to  the  fire,  and  kicking  with  his  moccasined 
foot  the  slumbering  ashes,  he  squatted  down  be- 
fore it,  and  thus  soliloquized:  — 

"  Thirty  year  have  I  been  knocking  about  these 
mountains  from  Missoura's  head  as  far  sothe  as 
the  starving  Gila.  I've  trapped  a  heap,*  and 
many  a  hundred  pack  of  beaver  I've  traded  in  my 
time,  wagh!  Wliat  has  come  of  it,  and  whar's 
the  dollars  as  ought  to  be  in  my  possibles? 
Whar's  the  ind  of  this,  I  say?  Is  a  man  to  be 
hunted  by  Injuns  all  his  days?  Many's  the  time 
I've  said  I'd  strike  for  Taos,  and  trap  a  squaw, 
for  this  child's  getting  old,  and  feels  like  wanting 
a  woman's  face  about  his  lodge  for  the  balance  of 
his  days ;  but  when  it  comes  to  caching  of  the 
old  traps,  I've  the  smallest  kind- of  heart,  I  have. 
Certain,  the  old  State  comes  across  my  mind  now 
and  again,  but  who's  thar  to  remember  my  old 
body?  But  them  diggings  gets  too  overcrowded 
nowadays,  and  it's  hard  to  fetch  breath  amongst 
them  big  bands  of  corncrackers  to  Missoura.  Be- 
side, it  goes  against  natur'  to  leave  bufler-meat 
and  feed  on  hog;  and  them  white  gals  are  too 
much   like  picturs,    and   a   deal   too    '  fofarraw ' 

*  An  Indian  is  always  "  a  heap "  hungry  or  thirsty  — 
loves  "a  heap" — is  "a  heap"  brave;  in  fact,  "a  heap" 
is  tantamount  to  very  much. 


46  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

(fanfaron).  No;  darn  the  settlements,  I  say. 
It  won't  shine,  and  whar's  the  dollars?  Hows'- 
ever,  beaver's  bound  to  rise ;  human  natur'  can't 
go  on  selling  beaver  a  dollar  a  pound ;  no,  no,  that 
arn't  a  going  to  shine  much  longer,  I  know. 
Them  was  the  times  when  this  child  first  went  to 
the  mountains :  six  dollars  the  plew  —  old  'un  or 
kitten !  Wagh !  but  it's  bound  to  rise,  I  says 
agin ;  and  hyar's  a  coon  knows  whar  to  lay  his 
hand  on  a  dozen  pack  right  handy,  and  then  he'll 
take  the  Taos  trail,  wagh !  " 

Thus  soliloquizing,  Killbuck  knocked  the  ashes 
from  his  pipe,  and  placed  it  in  the  gaily  orna- 
mented case  that  hung  round  his  neck,  drew  his 
knife-belt  a  couple  of  holes  tighter,  resumed  his 
pouch  and  powder-horn,  took  his  rifle,  which  he 
carefully  covered  with  the  folds  of  his  Navajo 
blanket,  and,  striding  into  the  darkness,  cautiously 
reconnoitered  the  vicinity  of  the  camp.  When  he 
returned  to  the  fire  he  sat  himself  down  as  before, 
but  this  time  with  his  rifle  across  his  lap ;  and  at 
intervals  his  keen  gray  eyes  glanced  piercingly 
around,  particularly  towards  an  old  weather- 
beaten  and  grizzled  mule,  who  now,  old  stager 
as  she  was,  having  filled  her  belly,  stood  lazily 
over  her  picket-pin,  with  her  head  bent  down  and 
her  long  ears  flapping  over  her  face,  her  limbs 
gathered  under  her,  and  her  back  arched  to  throw 
off  the  rain,  tottering  from  side  to  side  as  she 
rested  and  slept. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  47 

"  Yep,  old  gal ! "  cried  Killbuck  to  the  animal, 
at  the  same  time  picking  a  piece  of  burnt  wood 
from  the  fire  and  throwing  it  at  her,  at  which  the 
mule  gathered  itself  up  and  cocked  her  ears  as 
she  recognized  lier  master's  voice.  "  Yep,  old  gal ! 
and  keep  jour  nose  open ;  thar's  brown  skin  about, 
I'm  thinkin',  and  maybe  you'll  get  roped  (lasso'd) 
by  a  Rapaho  afore  mornin'.'*  Again  the  old 
trapper  settled  himself  before  the  fire;  and  soon 
his  head  began  to  nod,  as  drowsiness  stole  over 
him.  Already  he  was  in  the  land  of  dreams ;  rev- 
elling amongst  bands  of  "  fat  cow,"  or  hunting 
along  a  stream  well  peopled  with  beaver;  with  no 
Indian  "  sign "  to  disturb  him,  and  the  merry 
rendezvous  in  close  perspective,  and  his  peltry 
selling  briskly  at  six  dollars  the  plew,  and  galore 
of  alcohol  to  ratify  the  trade.  Or,  perhaps, 
threading  the  back  trail  of  his  memory,  he  passed 
rapidly  through  the  perilous  vicissitudes  of  his 
hard,  hard  life  —  starving  one  day,  reveling  in 
abundance  the  next ;  now  beset  by  whooping  sav- 
ages thirsting  for  his  blood,  baying  his  enemies 
like  the  hunted  deer,  but  with  the  unflinching 
courage  of  a  man ;  now,  all  care  thrown  aside, 
secure  and  forgetful  of  the  past,  a  welcome  guest 
in  the  hospitable  trading  fort ;  or  back,  as  the 
trail  gets  fainter,  to  his  childhood's  home  in  the 
brown  forests  of  old  Kentuck,  tended  and  cared 
for  —  his  only  thought  to  enjoy  the  hominy  and 
johnny  cakes  of  his  thrifty  mother.     Once  more, 


46  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

in  warm  and  well-remembered  homespun,  he  sits 
on  the  snake-fence  round  the  old  clearing,  and, 
munching  his  hoe-cake  at  set  of  sun,  listens  to  the 
mournful  note  of  the  whip-poor-will,  or  the  harsh 
cry  of  the  noisy  catbird,  or  watches  the  agile  gam- 
bols of  the  squirrels  as  they  chase  each  other, 
chattering  the  while,  from  branch  to  branch  of 
the  lofty  tamarisks,  wondering  how  long  it  will 
be  before  he  will  be  able  to  lift  his  father's  heavy 
rifle,  and  use  it  against  the  tempting  game. 
Sleep,  however,  sat  lightly  on  the  eyes  of  the  wary 
mountaineer,  and  a  snort  from  the  old  mule  in  an 
instanb  stretched  his  every  nerve.  Without  a 
movement  of  his  body,  his  keen  eye  fixed  itself 
upon  the  mule,  which  now  stood  with  head  bent 
round,  and  eyes  and  ears  pointed  in  one  direction, 
snuffing  the  night  air  and  snorting  with  apparent 
fear.  A  low  sound  from  the  wakeful  hunter 
roused  the  others  from  their  sleep;  and  raising 
their  bodies  from  their  well-soaked  beds,  a  single 
word  apprised  them  of  their  danger. 

"  Injuns ! " 

Scarcely  was  the  word  out  of  Killbuck's  lips, 
when,  above  the  howling  of  the  furious  wind  and 
the  pattering  of  the  rain,  a  hundred  savage  yells 
broke  suddenly  upon  their  ears  from  all  directions 
round  the  camp ;  a  score  of  rifle-shots  rattled  from 
the  thicket,  and  a  cloud  of  arrows  whistled 
through  the  air,  whilst  a  crowd  of  Indians  charged 
upon    the    picketed    animals.     "  Owgh !    owgh  — 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  49 

owgh  —  owgli  —  g-h-h !  "  "A  foot,  by  gor !  " 
shouted  Killbuck,  "  and  the  old  mule  gone  at  that. 
On  'em,  boys,  for  old  Ken  tuck !  "  And  he  rushed 
towards  his  mule,  which  jumped  and  snorted  mad 
with  fright,  as  a  naked  Indian  strove  to  fasten  a 
lariat  round  her  nose,  having  already  cut  the  rope 
which  fastened  her  to  the  picket-pin. 

"  Quit  that,  you  cussed  devil !  "  roared  the  trap- 
per, as  he  jumped  upon  the  savage,  and,  without 
raising  his  rifle  to  his  shoulder,  made  a  deliberate 
thrust  with  the  muzzle  at  his  naked  breast,  strik- 
ing him  full,  and  at  the  same  time  pulling  the  trig- 
ger, actually  driving  the  Indian  two  paces  back- 
wards with  the  shock,  when  he  fell  in  a  heap,  and 
dead.  But  at  the  same  moment,  an  Indian,  sweep- 
ing his  club  round  his  head,  brought  it  with  fright- 
ful force  down  upon  Killbuck.  For  a  moment  the 
hunter  staggered,  threw  out  his  arms  wildly  into 
the  air,  and  fell  headlong  to  the  ground. 

"  Owgh !  owgh,  owgh-h-h !  "  cried  the  Rapaho, 
and,  striding  over  the  prostrate  body,  he  seized 
with  his  left  hand  the  middle  lock  of  the  trapper's 
long  hair,  and  drew  his  knife  round  the  head  to  sep- 
arate the  scalp  from  the  skull.  As  he  bent  over  to 
his  work,  the  trapper  named  La  Bonte  saw  his 
companion's  peril,  rushed  quick  as  thought  at  the 
Indian,  and  buried  his  knife  to  the  hilt  between 
his  shoulders.  With  a  gasping  shudder  the 
Rapaho  fell  dead  upon  the  prostrate  body  of  his 
foe. 


80  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

The  attack,  however,  lasted  but  a  few  seconds. 
The  dash  at  the  animals  had  been  entirely  suc- 
cessful, and,  driving  them  before  them  with  loud 
cries,  the  Indians  disappeared  quickly  in  the  dark- 
ness. Without  waiting  for  daylight,  two  of  the 
three  trappers  who  alone  were  to  be  seen,  and 
who  had  been  within  the  shanties  at  the  time  of 
attack,  without  a  moment's  delay  commenced 
packing  two  horses,  which  having  been  fastened 
to  the  shanties  had  escaped  the  Indians,  and,  plac- 
ing their  squaws  upon  them,  showering  curses  and 
imprecations  on  their  enemies,  left  the  camp,  fear- 
ful of  another  onset,  and  resolved  to  retreat  and 
cache  themselves  until  the  danger  was  over.  Not 
so  La  Bonte,  who,  stout  and  true,  had  done  his 
best  in  the  fight,  and  now  sought  the  body  of  his 
old  comrade,  from  which,  before  he  could  examine 
the  wounds,  he  had  first  to  remove  the  corpse  of 
the  Indian  he  had  slain.  Killbuck  still  breathed. 
He  had  been  stunned ;  but,  revived  by  the  cold 
rain  beating  upon  his  face,  he  soon  opened  his 
eyes,  and  recognized  his  trusty  friend,  who,  sitting 
down,  lifted  his  head  into  his  lap,  and  wiped  away 
the  blood  that  streamed  from  the  wounded  scalp. 

"  Is  the  top-knot  gone,  boy  ?  "  asked  Killbuck ; 
"  for  my  head  feels  queersome,  I  tell  you." 

"  Thar's  the  Injun  as  felt  like  lifting  it,"  an- 
swered the  other,  kicking  the  dead  body  with  his 
foot. 

"  Wagh !  boy,  you've  sti-uck  a  coup ;  so  scalp 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  51 

the  nigger  right  off,  and  then  fetch  me  a  drink." 
The  morning  broke  clear  and  cold.  With  the 
exception  of  a  light  cloud  which  hung  over  Pike's 
Peak,  the  sky  was  spotless ;  and  a  perfect  calm 
had  succeeded  the  boisterous  storm  of  the  pre- 
vious night.  The  creek  was  swollen  and  turbid 
with  the  rains ;  and  as  La  Bonte  proceeded  a  little 
distance  down  the  bank  to  find  a  passage  to  the 
water,  he  sudden!}'  stopped  short,  and  an  involun- 
tary cry  escaped  him.  Within  a  few  feet  of  the 
bank  lay  the  body  of  one  of  his  companions,  who 
had  formed  the  guard  at  the  time  of  the  Indians' 
attack.  It  was  lying  on  the  face,  pierced  through 
the  chest  with  an  arrow  which  was  buried  to  the 
very  feathers,  and  the  scalp  torn  from  the  bloody 
skull.  Beyond,  but  all  within  a  hundred  yards, 
lay  the  three  others,  dead,  and  similarly  mutilated. 
So  certain  had  been  the  aim,  and  so  close  the 
enemy,  that  each  had  died  without  a  struggle,  and 
consequently  had  been  unable  to  alarm  the  camp. 
La  Bonte,  with  a  glance  at  the  bank,  saw  at  once 
that  the  wily  Indians  had  crept  along  the  creek, 
the  noise  of  the  storm  facilitating  their  approach 
undiscovered,  and,  crawling  up  the  bank,  had 
watched  their  opportunity  to  shoot  simultaneously 
the  four  hunters  on  guard. 

Returning  to  Killbuck,  he  apprised  him  of  the 
melancholy  fate  of  their  companions,  and  held  a 
council  of  war  as  to  their  proceedings.  The  old 
hunter's  mind  was  soon  made  up.     "  First,"  said 


52  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

he,  "  I  get  back  my  old  mule ;  she's  carried  me  and 
my  traps  these  twelve  jyears,  and  I  ain't  a-goin'  to 
lose  her  yet.  Second,  I  feel  like  taking  hair,  and 
some  Rapahos  has  to  go  under  for  this  night's 
work.  Third,  we  have  got  to  cache  the  beaver. 
Fourth,  we  take  the  Injun  trail,  wharever  it 
leads." 

No  more  daring  mountaineer  than  La  Bonte 
ever  trapped  a  beaver,  and  no  counsel  could  have 
more  exactly  tallied  with  his  own  inclination  than 
the  law  laid  down  by  old  Killbuck. 

"  Agreed,"  was  his  answer,  and  forthwith  he  set 
about  forming  a  cache.  In  this  instance  they  had 
not  sufficient  time  to  construct  a  regular  one,  so 
they  contented  themselves  with  securing  their 
packs  of  beaver  in  buffalo  robes,  and  tying  them 
in  the  forks  of  several  cotton-woods,  under  which 
the  camp  had  been  made.  This  done,  they  lit  a 
fire,  and  cooked  some  buffalo-meat ;  and,  whilst 
smoking  a  pipe,  carefully  cleaned  their  rifles,  and 
filled  their  horns  and  pouches  with  good  store  of 
ammunition. 

A  prominent  feature  in  the  character  of  the 
hunters  of  the  Far  West  is  their  quick  determina- 
tion and  resolve  in  cases  of  extreme  difficulty  and 
peril,  and  their  fixedness  of  purpose,  when  any 
plan  of  operations  has  been  laid  requiring  bold 
and  instant  action  in  carrying  out.  It  is  here 
that  they  so  infinitely  surpass  the  savage  Indian 
in  bringing  to  a  successful  issue  their  numerous 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  53 

hostile  expeditions  against  the  natural  foe  of  the 
white  man  in  the  wild  and  barbarous  regions  of 
the  West.  Ready  to  resolve  as  they  are  prompt 
to  execute,  and  combining  far  greater  dash  and 
daring  with  equal  subtlety  and  caution,  they. 
possess  great  advantage  over  the  vacillating  In- 
dian, whose  superstitious  mind  in  a  great  degree 
paralyzes  the  physical  energy  of  his  active  body ; 
and  who,  by  waiting  for  propitious  signs  and  sea- 
sons before  he  undertakes  an  enterprise,  often 
loses  the  opportunity  by  which  his  white  and  more 
civilized  enemy  knows  so  well  how  to  profit. 

Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  were  no  exceptions  to 
this  characteristic  rule ;  and  before  the  sun  was 
a  hand's-breadth  above  the  eastern  horizon,  the 
two  hunters  were  running  on  the  trail  of  the  vic- 
torious Indians.  Striking  from  the  creek  where 
the  night  attack  was  made,  they  crossed  to  another 
known  as  Kioway,  running  parallel  to  Bijou,  a 
few  hours'  journey  westward,  and  likewise  head- 
ing in  the  divide.  Following  this  to  its  forks,  they 
struck  into  the  upland  prairies  lying  at  the  foot  of 
the  mountains  ;  and  crossing  to  the  numerous  water- 
courses which  feed  the  creek  called  Vermillion  or 
Cherry,  they  pursued  the  trail  over  the  mountain- 
spurs  until  it  reached  a  fork  of  the  Boiling  Spring. 
Here  the  war-party  had  halted  and  held  a  consul- 
tation, for  from  this  point  the  trail  turned  at  a 
tangent  to  the  westward,  and  entered  the  rugged 
gorges  of  the  mountains.     It  was  now  evident  to 


S4s  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

the  two  trappers  that  their  destination  was  the 
Bayou  Salade,*  —  a  mountain  valley  which  is  a 
favorite  resort  of  the  buffalo  in  the  winter  sea- 
son, and  which,  and  for  this  reason,  is  often  fre- 
quented by  the  Yuta  Indians  as  their  wintering 
ground.  That  the  Rapahos  were  on  a  war  ex- 
pedition against  the  Yutas,  there  Avas  little  doubt ; 
and  Killbuck,  who  knew  every  inch  of  the  ground, 
saw  at  once,  by  the  direction  the  trail  had  taken, 
that  they  were  making  for  the  Bayou  in  order  to 
surprise  their  enemies,  and,  therefore,  were  not 
following  the  usual  Indian  trail  up  the  canon  of 
the  Boiling  Spring  river.  Having  made  up  his 
mind  to  this,  he  at  once  struck  across  the  broken 
ground  lying  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains,  steer- 
ing a  course  a  little  to  the  eastward  of  north,  or 
almost  in  the  direction  whence  he  had  come ;  and 
then,  pointing  westward,  about  noon  he  crossed 
a  mountain-chain,  and  descending  into  a  ravine 
through  which  a  little  rivulet  tumbled  over  its 
rocky  bed,  he  at  once  proved  the  correctness  of 
his  judgment  by  striking  the  Indian  trail,  now 
quite  fresh,  as  it  wound  through  the  canon  along 
the  bank  of  the  stream.  The  route  he  had  fol- 
lowed, impracticable  to  pack-animals,  had  saved 
at  least  half-a-day's  journey,  and  brought  them 
within  a  short  distance  of  the  object  of  their  pur- 
suit ;  for,  at  the  head  of  the  gorge,  a  lofty  bluff 
presenting  itself,  the  hunters  ascended  to  the  sum- 
*The  old  name  of  South  Park,  Colorado.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  66 

mit,  and,  looking  down,  descried  at  their  very 
feet  the  Indian  camp,  with  their  own  stolen  caval- 
lada  feeding  quietly  round. 

"  Wagh ! "  exclaimed  both  the  hunters  in  a 
breath.  "  And  thar's  the  old  gal  at  that," 
chuckled  Killbuck,  as  he  recognized  his  old  grizzled 
mule  making  good  play  at  the  rich  buffalo  grass 
with  which  these  mountain  valleys  abound. 

*'  If  we  don't  make  a  raise  afore  long,  I  wouldn't 
say  so.  Thar  plans  is  plain  to  this  child  as  beaver 
sign.  They're  after  Yuta  hair,  as  certain  as  this 
gun  has  got  hind-sights ;  but  they  arn't  a-goin'  to 
pack  them  animals  after  'em,  and  have  crawled 
like  rattlers  along  this  bottom  to  cache  'em  till 
they  come  back  from  the  Bayou, —  and  maybe 
they'll  leave  half-a-dozen  soldiers  *  with  'em." 

How  right  the  wily  trapper  was  in  his  con- 
jectures will  be  shortly  proved.  Meanwhile,  with 
his  companion,  he  descended  the  bluff,  and  push- 
ing his  way  into  a  thicket  of  dwarf  pine  and  cedar, 
sat  down  on  a  log,  and  drew  from  an  end  of  the 
blanket  strapped  on  his  shoulder,  a  portion  of  a 
buffalo's  liver,  which  they  both  discussed,  raw, 
with  infinite  relish;  eating  in  lieu  of  bread  (an  un- 
known luxury  in  these  parts)  sundry  strips  of 
dried  fat.  To  have  kindled  a  fire  would  have  been 
dangerous,  since  it  was  not  impossible  that  some 
of  the  Indians   might  leave  their  camp  to   hunt, 

*  The  young  untried  warriors  of  the  Indians  are  thus 
called. 


56  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

when  the  smoke  would  at  once  have  betrayed  the 
presence  of  enemies.  A  light  was  struck,  however, 
for  their  pipes;  and  after  enjoying  this  true  con- 
solation for  some  time,  they  laid  a  blanket  on  the 
ground,  and,  side  by  side,  soon  fell  asleep. 

If  Killbuck  had  been  a  prophet,  or  the  most 
prescient  of  medicine-men,  he  could  not  have  more 
exactly  predicted  the  movements  in  the  Indian 
camp.  About  three  hours  before  sundown  he  rose 
and  shook  himself,  which  movement  was  sufficient 
to  awaken  his  companion.  Telling  La  Bonte  to 
lie  down  again  and  rest,  he  gave  him  to  understand 
that  he  was  about  to  reconnoiter  the  enemy's 
camp ;  and  after  carefully  examining  his  rifle,  and 
drawing  his  knife-belt  a  hole  or  two  tighter,  he 
proceeded  on  his  dangerous  errand.  Ascending 
the  same  bluff  whence  he  had  first  discovered  the 
Indian  camp,  he  glanced  rapidly  around,  and  made 
himself  master  of  the  features  of  the  ground  — 
choosing  a  ravine  by  which  he  might  approach  the 
camp  more  closely,  and  without  danger  of  being 
discovered.  This  was  soon  effected;  and  in  half 
an  hour  the  trapper  was  lying  on  his  belly  on  the 
summit  of  a  pine-covered  bluff  which  overlooked 
the  Indians  within  easy  rifle-shot,  and  so  perfectly 
concealed  by  the  low  spreading  branches  of  the 
cedar  and  arbor-vitse,  that  not  a  particle  of  his 
person  could  be  detected ;  unless,  indeed,  his  sharp 
twinkling  gray  eye  contrasted  too  strongly  with 
the  green  boughs  that  covered  the  rest  of  his  face. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  57 

Moreover,  there  was  no  danger  of  their  hitting  up- 
on his  trail,  for  he  had  been  careful  to  pick  his  steps 
on  the  rock-covered  ground,  so  that  not  a  track 
of  his  moccasin  was  visible.  Here  he  lay,  still  as 
a  carcajou  in  wait  for  a  deer,  only  now  and  then 
shaking  the  boughs  as  his  body  quivered  with  a 
suppressed  chuckle,  when  any  movement  in  the 
Indian  camp  caused  him  to  laugh  inwardly  at  his 
(if  they  had  known  it)  unwelcome  propinquity. 
He  was  not  a  little  surprised,  however,  to  discover 
that  the  party  was  much  smaller  than  he  had  im- 
agined, counting  only  forty  warriors ;  and  this 
assured  him  that  the  band  had  divided,  one  half 
taking  the  Yuta  trail  by  the  Boiling  Spring,  the 
other  (the  one  before  him)  taking  a  longer  cir- 
cuit in  order  to  reach  the  Bayou,  and  make  the 
attack  on  the  Yutas,  in  a  different  direction. 

At  this  moment  the  Indians  were  in  delibera- 
tion. Seated  in  a  large  circle  round  a  very  small 
fire,*  the  smoke  from  which  ascended  in  a  thin 
straight  column,  they  each  in  turn  puffed  a  huge 
cloud  of  smoke  from  three  or  four  long  cherry- 
stemmed  pipes,  which  went  the  round  of  the 
party ;  each  warrior  touching  the  ground  with  the 
heel  of  the  pipe-bowl,  and  turning  the  stem  up- 
wards and  away  from  him  as  medicine  to  the  Great 

*  There  is  a  great  difference  between  an  Indian's  fire  and 
a  white's.  The  former  places  the  ends  of  logs  to  burn 
gradually;  the  latter,  the  center,  besides  making  such  a 
bonfire  that  the  Indians  truly  say,  "  The  white  makes  a 
fire  so  hot  that  he  cannot  approach  to  warm  himself  by  it." 


58  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Spirit,  before  he  himself  inhaled  the  fragrant  kin- 
nik-kinnik.  The  council,  however,  was  not  gen- 
eral, for  only  fifteen  of  the  older  warriors  took 
part  in  it,  the  others  sitting  outside,  and  at  some 
little  distance  from  the  circle.  Behind  each  were 
his  arms  —  bow  and  quiver,  and  shield  —  hang- 
ing from  a  spear  stuck  in  the  ground ;  and  a  few 
guns  in  ornamented  covers  of  buckskin  were  added 
to  some  of  the  equipments. 

Near  the  fire,  and  in  the  center  of  the  inner 
circle,  a  spear  was  fixed  upright  in  the  ground, 
and  on  this  dangled  the  four  scalps  of  the  trap- 
pers killed  the  preceding  night ;  and  underneath 
them,  affixed  to  the  same  spear,  was  the  mystic 
medicine-bag,  by  which  Klllbuck  knew  that  the 
band  before  him  was  under  the  command  of  the 
chief  of  the  tribe. 

Towards  the  grim  trophies  on  the  spear,  the 
warriors,  who  in  turn  addressed  the  council,  fre- 
quently pointed  —  more  than  one,  as  he  did  so, 
making  the  gyratory  motion  of  the  right  hand 
and  arm  which  the  Indians  use  in  describing  that 
they  have  gained  an  advantage  by  skill  or  cun- 
ning. Then  pointing  westward,  the  speaker  would 
thrust  out  his  arm,  extending  his  fingers  at  the 
same  time,  and  closing  and  reopening  them  re- 
peatedly —  meaning,  that  although  four  scalps 
already  ornamented  the  medicine  pole,  they  were 
as  nothing  compared  to  the  numerous  trophies 
they  would  bring  from  the  Salt  Valley,  where  they 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  59 

expected  to  find  their  hereditary  enemies  the 
Yutas.  "  That  now  was  not  the  time  to  count 
their  coups  "  (for  at  this  moment  one  of  the  war- 
riors rose  from  his  seat,  and,  swelling  with  pride, 
advanced  towards  the  spear,  pointing  to  one  of 
the  scalps,  and  then  striking  his  open  hand  on 
his  naked  breast,  jumped  into  the  air,  as  if  about 
to  go  through  the  ceremony)  ;  "  that  before  many 
suns  all  their  spears  together  would  not  hold  the 
scalps  they  had  taken ;  and  that  they  would  re- 
turn to  their  village,  and  spend  a  moon  relating 
their  achievements  and  counting  coups." 

All  this  Kilibuck  learned, —  thanks  to  his  knowl- 
edge of  the  language  of  signs  —  a  master  of  which, 
if  even  he  have  no  ears  or  tongue,  never  fails  to 
understand,  and  be  understood  by,  any  of  the 
hundred  tribes  whose  languages  are  perfectly  dis- 
tinct and  different.  He  learned,  moreover,  that 
at  sundown  the  greater  part  of  the  band  would 
resume  the  trail,  in  order  to  reach  the  Bayou  by 
the  earliest  dawn ;  and  also,  that  no  more  than 
four  or  five  of  the  younger  warriors  would  remain 
with  the  captured  animals.  Still  the  hunter  re- 
mained in  his  position  until  the  sun  had  disap- 
peared behind  the  ridge ;  when,  taking  up  their 
arms,  and  throwing  their  buffalo-robes  on  their 
shoulders,  the  war-party  of  Rapahos,  one  behind 
the  other,  with  noiseless  step  and  silent  as  the 
dumb,  moved  away  from  the  camp.  When  the 
last  dusky  form  had  disappeared  behind  a  point 


60  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

of  rocks  which  shut  in  the  northern  end  of  the 
little  valley  or  ravine,  Killbuck  withdrew  his  head 
from  its  screen,  crawled  backwards  on  his  stomach 
from  the  edge  of  the  bluff,  and,  rising  from  the 
ground,  shook  and  stretched  himself ;  then  gave 
one  cautious  look  around,  and  immediately  pro- 
ceeded to  rejoin  his  companion. 

"Lave  (get  up),  boy,"  said  Killbuck,  as  soon 
as  he  reached  him.  "  Hyar's  grainin'  to  do  afore 
long  —  and  sun's  about  down,  I'm  thinking." 

"  Ready,  old  hoss,"  answered  La  Bonte,  giving 
himself  a  shake.  "  What's  the  sign  like,  and  how 
many's  the  lodge?  " 

"  Fresh,  and  five,  boy.     How  do  you  feel.''  " 

"  Half  froze  for  hair.     Wagh !  " 

*'  We'll  have  moon  to-night,  and  as  soon  as 
she  gets  up,  we'll  make  'em  come." 

Killbuck  then  described  to  his  companion  what 
he  had  seen,  and  detailed  his  plan.  This  was 
simply  to  wait  until  the  moon  afforded  sufficient 
light,  then  to  approach  the  Indian  camp  and 
charge  into  it,  "  lift  "  as  much  "  hair  "  as  they 
could,  recover  their  animals,  and  start  at  once  to 
the  Bayou  and  join  the  friendly  Yutas,  warning 
them  of  the  coming  danger.  The  risk  of  falling 
in  with  either  of  the  Rapaho  bands  was  hardly 
considered ;  to  avoid  this  they  tinisted  to  their 
own  foresight,  and  the  legs  of  their  mules,  should 
they  encounter  them. 

Between  sundown  and  the  rising  of  the  moon 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  61 

they  had  leisure  to  eat  their  supper,  which,  as 
before,  consisted  of  raw  buffalo-liver ;  after  dis- 
cussing which,  Killbuck  pronounced  himself  "  a 
heap  "  better,  and  ready  for  "  huggin'." 

In  the  short  interval  of  almost  perfect  darkness 
which  preceded  the  moonlight,  and  taking  advan- 
tage of  one  of  the  frequent  squalls  of  wind  which 
howl  down  the  narrow  gorges  of  the  mountains, 
these  two  determined  men,  with  footsteps  noiseless 
as  the  panther's,  crawled  to  the  edge  of  the  little 
plateau  of  some  hundred  yards  square,  where  the 
five  Indians  in  charge  of  the  animals  were  seated 
round  the  fire,  perfectly  unconscious  of  the  vicin- 
ity of  danger.  Several  clumps  of  cedar-bushes 
dotted  the  small  prairie,  and  amongst  these  the 
well-hobbled  mules  and  horses  were  feeding. 
These  animals,  accustomed  to  the  presence  of 
whites,  would  not  notice  the  two  hunters  as  they 
crept  from  clump  to  clump  nearer  to  the  fire,  and 
also  served,  even  if  the  Indians  should  be  on  the 
watch,  to  conceal  their  movements  from  them. 

This  the  two  men  at  once  perceived ;  but  old 
Killbuck  knew  that  if  he  passed  within  sight  or 
smell  of  his  mule,  he  would  be  received  with  a 
whinny  of  recognition,  which  would  at  once  alarm 
the  enemy.  He  therefore  first  ascertained  where 
his  own  animal  was  feeding,  which  luckily  was  at 
the  farther  side  of  the  prairie,  and  would  not  in- 
terfere with  his  proceedings. 

Threading  their  way  amongst  the  feeding  mules, 


62  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

they  approached  a  clump  of  bushes  about  forty 
yards  from  tlic  spot  where  the  unconscious  savages 
were  seated  smoking  round  the  fire;  and  here  they 
awaited,  scarcely  drawing  breath  the  while,  the 
moment  when  the  moon  rose  above  the  mountain 
into  the  clear  cold  sky,  and  gave  them  light  suffi- 
cient to  make  sure  their  work  of  bloody  retribu- 
tion. Not  a  pulsation  in  the  hearts  of  these  stem 
determined  men  beat  higher  than  its  wont ;  not  the 
tremor  of  a  nerve  disturbed  their  frame.  They 
stood  with  lips  compressed  and  rifles  ready,  their 
pistols  loosened  in  their  belts,  their  scalp-knives 
handy  to  their  grip.  The  lurid  glow  of  the  com- 
ing moon  already  shot  into  the  sky  above  the 
ridge,  which  stood  out  in  bold  relief  against  the 
light ;  and  the  luminary  herself  just  peered  over 
the  mountain,  illuminating  its  pine-clad  summit, 
and  throwing  her  beams  on  an  opposite  peak,  when 
Killbuck  touched  his  companion's  arm,  and  whis- 
pered, "  Wait  for  the  full  light,  boy." 

At  this  moment,  however,  unseen  by  the  trap- 
per, the  old  grizzled  mule  had  gradually  ap- 
proached, as  she  fed  along  the  plateau ;  and,  when 
within  a  few  paces  of  their  retreat,  a  gleam  of 
moonshine  revealed  to  the  animal  the  erect  forms 
of  the  two  whites.  Suddenly  she  stood  still  and 
pricked  her  ears,  and  stretching  out  her  neck  and 
nose,  snuffed  the  air.  Well  she  knew  her  old 
master. 

Killbuck,  with  eyes  fixed  upon  the  Indians,  was 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  63 

on  the  point  of  giving  the  signal  of  attack  to  his 
comrade,  when  the  shrill  whinny  of  his  mule  rever- 
berated through  the  gorge.  The  Indians  jumped 
to  their  feet  and  seized  their  arms,  when  Killbuck, 
with  a  loud  shout  of  "  At  'em,  boy ;  give  the  nig- 
gers h — !  "  rushed  from  his  concealment,  and  with 
La  Bonte  by  his  side,  yelling  a  fierce  war-whoop, 
sprang  upon  the  startled  savages. 

Panic-struck  with  the  suddenness  of  the  attack, 
the  Indians  scarcely  knew  where  to  run,  and  for 
a  moment  stood  huddled  together  like  sheep. 
Down  dropped  Killbuck  on  his  knee,  and  stretch- 
ing out  his  wiping-stick,  planted  it  on  the  ground 
at  the  extreme  length  of  his  arm.  As  methodic- 
ally and  as  coolly  as  if  about  to  aim  at  a  deer, 
he  raised  his  rifle  to  this  rest  and  pulled  the  trig- 
ger. At  the  report  an  Indian  fell  forward  on 
his  face,  at  the  same  moment  that  La  Bonte,  with 
equal  certainty  of  aim,  and  like  effect,  discharged 
his  own  rifle. 

The  three  surviving  Indians,  seeing  that  their 
assailants  were  but  two,  and  knowing  that  their 
guns  were  empty,  came  on  with  loud  yells.  With 
the  left  hand  grasping  a  bunch  of  arrows,  and 
holding  the  bow  already  bent,  and  arrow  fixed, 
they  steadily  advanced,  bending  low  to  the  ground 
to  get  their  objects  between  them  and  the  light, 
and  thus  render  their  aim  more  certain.  The 
trappers,  however,  did  not  care  to  wait  for  them. 
Drawing  their  pistols,  they  charged  at  once ;  and 


64.  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

although  the  bows  twanged,  and  the  three  arrows 
struck  their  mark,  on  they  rushed,  discharging 
their  pistols  at  close  quarters.  La  Bonte  threw 
his  empty  one  at  the  head  of  an  Indian  who  was 
pulling  his  second  arrow  to  its  head  at  a  yard's 
distance,  drew  his  knife  at  the  same  moment,  and 
made  at  him. 

But  the  Indian  broke  and  ran,  followed  by  his 
surviring  companion ;  and  as  soon  as  Killbuck 
could  ram  home  another  ball,  he  sent  a  shot  fly- 
ing after  them  as  they  scrambled  up  the  moun- 
tain-side, leaving  in  their  fright  and  hurry  their 
bows  and  shields  on  the  ground. 

The  fight  was  over,  and  the  two  trappers  con- 
fronted each  other:  "We've  given  'em  h — !" 
laughed  Killbuck. 

"  Well,  we  have,"  answered  the  other,  pulling 
an  arrow  out  of  his  arm.     "  Wagh !  " 

"  We'll  lift  the  hair,  anyhow,"  continued  the 
first,  "  afore  the  scalp's  cold." 

Taking  his  whetstone  from  the  little  sheath  on 
his  knife-belt,  the  trapper  proceeded  to  "  edge  " 
his  knife,  and  then  stepping  to  the  first  prostrate 
body,  he  turned  it  over  to  examine  if  any  symp- 
tom of  vitality  remained.  "  Thrown  cold !  "  he 
exclaimed,  as  he  dropped  the  lifeless  arm  he  had 
lifted,  "  I  sighted  him  about  the  long  ribs,  but 
the  light  was  bad,  and  I  couldn't  get  a  bead  off- 
hand anyhow." 

Seizing  with  his  left  hand  the  long  and  braided 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  65 

lock  on  the  center  of  the  Indian's  head,  he  passed 
the  point  edge  of  his  keen  butcher-knife  round  the 
parting,  turning  it  at  the  same  time  under  the 
skin  to  separate  the  scalp  from  the  skull ;  then 
with  a  quick  and  sudden  jerk  of  his  hand,  he  re- 
moved it  entirely  from  the  head,  and  giving  the 
reeking  trophy  a  wring  upon  the  grass  to  free  it 
from  the  blood,  he  coolly  hitched  it  under  his  belt, 
and  proceeded  to  the  next ;  but  seeing  La  Eonte 
operating  upon  this,  he  sought  the  third,  who  lay 
some  little  distance  from  the  others.  This  one 
was  still  alive,  a  pistol-ball  having  passed  through 
his  body  without  touching  a  vital  spot. 

"  Gut-shot  is  this  nigger,"  exclaimed  the  trap- 
per; "them  pistols  never  throws  'em  in  their 
tracks ; "  and  thrusting  his  knife,  for  mercy's 
sake,  into  the  bosom  of  the  Indian,  he  likewise 
tore  the  scalp-lock  from  his  head,  and  placed  it 
with  the  other. 

La  Bonte  had  received  two  trivial  wounds,  and 
Kilibuck  till  now  had  been  walking  about  with 
an  arrow  sticking  through  the  fleshy  part  of  his 
thigh,  the  point  being  perceptible  near  the  sur- 
face of  the  other  side.  To  free  his  leg  from  the 
painful  encumbrance,  he  thrust  the  weapon  com- 
pletely through,  and  then,  cutting  off  the  arrow- 
head below  the  barb,  he  drew  it  out,  the  blood 
flowing  freely  from  the  wound.  A  tourniquet  of 
buckskin  soon  stopped  this,  and,  heedless  of  the 
pain,  the  hardy   mountaineer   sought  for  his  old 


66  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

mule,  and  quickly  brought  it  to  the  fire  (which 
La  Bonte  had  rekindled),  lavishing  many  a  caress, 
and  most  comical  terms  of  endearment,  upon  the 
faithful  companion  of  his  wanderings.  They 
found  all  the  animals  safe  and  well;  and  after 
eating  heartily  of  some  venison  which  the  Indians 
had  been  cooking  at  the  moment  of  the  attack, 
made  instant  preparations  to  quit  the  scene  of 
their  exploit,  not  wishing  to  trust  to  the  chance 
of  the  Rapahos  being  too  frightened  to  again 
molest  them. 

Having  no  saddles,  they  secured  buffalo-robes 
on  the  backs  of  two  mules  —  Killbuck,  of  course, 
riding  his  own  —  and  lost  no  time  in  proceeding 
on  their  wa3\  They  followed  the  course  of  the 
Indians  up  the  stream,  and  found  that  it  kept 
the  canons  and  gorges  of  the  mountains,  where 
the  road  was  better ;  but  it  was  with  no  little  diffi- 
culty that  they  made  their  way,  the  ground  be- 
ing much  broken,  and  covered  with  rocks.  Kill- 
buck's  wound  became  very  painful,  and  his  leg 
stiffened  and  swelled  distressingly,  but  he  still 
pushed  on  all  night,  and  at  daybreak,  recognizing 
their  position,  he  left  the  Indian  trail,  and  fol- 
lowed a  little  creek  which  rose  in  a  mountain- 
chain  of  moderate  elevation,  and  above  which, 
and  to  the  south,  Pike's  Peak  towered  high  into 
the  clouds.  With  great  difficulty  they  crossed 
this  ridge,  and  ascending  and  descending  several 
smaller  ones,  which  gradually  smoothed  away  as 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  67 

they  met  the  valley,  about  three  hours  after  sun- 
rise they  found  themselves  in  the  south-east  cor- 
ner of  the  Bayou  Salade. 

The  Bayou  Salade,  or  Salt  Valley,  is  the  most 
southern  of  three  very  extensive  valleys,  form- 
ing a  series  of  tablelands  in  the  very  center  of 
the  main  chain  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  known 
to  the  trappers  by  the  name  of  the  "  Parks." 
The  numerous  streams  by  which  they  are  watered 
abound  in  the  valuable  fur-bearing  beaver,  whilst 
every  species  of  game  common  to  the  West  is 
found  here  in  great  abundance.  The  Bayou 
Salade  especially,  owing  to  the  salitrose  nature 
of  the  soil  and  springs,  is  the  favorite  resort  of 
all  the  larger  animals  common  to  the  mountains ; 
and  in  the  sheltered  prairies  of  the  Bayou,  the 
buffalo,  forsaking  the  barren  and  inclement  re- 
gions of  the  exposed  plains,  frequent  these  upland 
valleys  in  the  winter  months ;  and  feeding  upon 
the  rich  and  nutritious  buffalo  grass,  which  on 
the  bare  prairies  at  that  season  is  either  dry 
and  rotten  or  entirely  exhausted,  not  only  sus- 
tain life,  but  retain  a  great  portion  of  the  "  con- 
dition "  that  the  abundant  fall  and  summer  pas- 
ture of  the  lowlands  has  laid  upon  their  bones. 
Therefore  is  this  valley  sought  by  the  Indians 
as  a  wintering-ground.  Its  occupancy  has  been 
disputed  by  most  of  the  mountain  tribes,  and 
long  and  bloody  wars  have  been  waged  to  make 
good    the    claims    set    forth    by    Yuta,    Rap?>ho, 


68  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Sioux,  and  Shians.*  However,  to  the  first  of 
these  it  may  be  said  now  to  belong,  since  their 
*'  big  village  "  has  wintered  there  for  many  suc- 
cessive years ;  whilst  the  Rapahos  seldom  visit  it 
unless  on  war  expeditions  against  the  Yutas. 

Judging,  from  the  direction  the  Rapahos  were 
taking,  that  the  friendly  tribe  of  Yutas  were  there 
already,  the  trappers  had  resolved  to  join  them 
as  soon  as  possible ;  and  therefore,  without  rest- 
ing, pushed  on  through  the  uplands,  and,  towards 
the  middle  of  the  day,  had  the  satisfaction  of 
descrying  the  conical  lodges  of  the  village,  situ- 
ated on  a  large  level  plateau,  through  which  ran 
a  mountain  stream.  A  numerous  band  of  mules 
and  horses  were  scattered  over  the  pasture,  and 
round  them  several  mounted  Indians  kept  guard. 
As  the  trappers  descended  the  bluffs  into  the 
plain,  some  straggling  Indians  caught  sight  of 
them ;  and  instantly  one  of  them,  lassoing  a  horse 
from  the  herd,  mounted  it,  barebacked,  and  flew 
like  wind  to  the  village  to  spread  the  news.  Soon 
the  lodges  disgorged  their  inmates  ;  first  the  women 
and  children  rushed  to  the  side  of  the  strangers' 
approach;  then  the  younger  Indians,  unable  to 
restrain  their  curiosity,  mounted  their  horses,  and 
galloped  forth  to  meet  them.  The  old  chiefs, 
enveloped  in  buiFalo-robes  (softly  and  delicately 
dressed  as  the  Yutas  alone  know  how),  and  with 
tomahawk  held  in   one   hand   and   resting  in   the 

*  Utahs,  Arapahoes,  Sioux,  and  Cheyennes.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  69 

hollow  of  the  other  arm,  sallied  last  of  all  from 
their  lodges ;  and,  squatting  in  a  row  on  a  sunny 
bank  outside  the  village,  awaited,  with  dignified 
composure,  the  arrival  of  the  whites.  Killbuck 
was  well  known  to  most  of  them,  having  trapped 
in  their  country  and  traded  with  them  years  be- 
fore at  Roubideau's  fort  at  the  head  waters  of 
the  Rio  Grande.  After  shaking  hands  with  all 
who  presented  themselves,  he  at  once  gave  them  to 
understand  that  their  enemies,  the  Rapahos,  were 
at  hand,  with  a  hundred  warriors  at  least,  elated 
by  the  coup  they  had  just  struck  against  the 
whites,  bringing,  moreover,  four  white  scalps  to 
incite  them  to  brave  deeds. 

At  this  news  the  whole  village  was  speedily  in 
commotion:  the  war-shout  was  taken  up  from 
lodge  to  lodge ;  the  squaws  began  to  lament  and 
tear  their  hair ;  the  warriors  to  paint  and  arm 
themselves.  The  elder  chiefs  immediately  met  in 
council,  and,  over  the  medicine-pipe,  debated  as  to 
the  best  course  to  pursue  —  whether  to  wait  the 
attack,  or  sally  out  and  meet  the  enemy.  In  the 
meantime,  the  braves  were  collected  together  by 
the  chiefs  of  their  respective  bands ;  and  scouts, 
mounted  on  the  fastest  horses,  despatched  in  every 
direction  to  procure  intelligence  of  the  enemy. 

The  two  whites,  after  watering  their  mules  and 
picketing  them  in  some  good  grass  near  the  vil- 
lage, drew  near  the  council  fire,  without,  however, 
joining  in  the  "  talk,"  until  they  were  invited  to 


70  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

take  their  seats  by  the  eldest  chief.  Then  Kill- 
buck  was  called  upon  to  give  his  opinion  as  to  the 
direction  in  which  he  judged  the  Rapahos  to  be 
approaching,  which  he  delivered  in  their  own 
language,  with  which  he  was  well  acquainted.  In 
a  short  time  the  council  broke  up ;  and  without 
noise  or  confusion,  a  band  of  one  hundred  chosen 
warriors  left  the  village,  immediately  after  one 
of  the  scouts  had  galloped  in  and  communicated 
some  intelligence  to  the  chiefs.  Killbuck  and  La 
Bont6  volunteered  to  accompany  the  war-party, 
weak  and  exhausted  as  they  were;  but  this  was 
negatived  by  the  chiefs,  who  left  their  white 
brothers  to  the  care  of  the  women,  who  tended 
their  wounds,  now  stiff  and  painful;  and  spread- 
ing their  buffalo-robes  in  a  wai'm  and  roomy  lodge, 
left  them  to  the  repose  they  so  much  needed. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  next  morning  Killbuck's  leg  was 
greatly  inflamed,  and  he  was  unable  to 
leave  the  lodge ;  but  he  made  his  compan- 
ion bring  the  old  mule  to  the  door,  that  he  might 
give  her  a  couple  of  ears  of  Indian  com,  the  last 
remains  of  the  slender  store  brought  by  the  In- 
dians from  the  Navajo  country.  The  day  passed, 
and  sundown  brought  no  tidings  of  the  war-party. 
This  caused  no  little  wailing  on  the  part  of  the 
squaws,  but  was  interpreted  by  the  whites  as  a 
favorable  augury.  A  little  after  sunrise  on  the 
second  morning,  the  long  line  of  the  returning 
warriors  was  discerned  winding  over  the  prairie, 
and  a  scout  having  galloped  in  to  bring  the  news 
of  a  great  victory,  the  whole  village  was  soon  in 
a  ferment  of  paint  and  drumming.  A  short  dis- 
tance from  the  lodges,  the  warriors  halted  to  await 
the  approach  of  the  people.  Old  men,  children, 
and  squaws  sitting  astride  their  horses,  sallied 
out  to  escort  the  victorious  party  in  triumph  to 
the  village.  With  loud  shouts  and  songs,  and 
drums  beating  the  monotonous  Indian  time,  they 
advanced  and  encircled  the  returning  braves,  one 

of  whom,  his  face  covered  with  black  paint,  car- 

71 


72  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ried  a  pole  on  which  dangled  thirteen  scalps,  the 
trophies  of  the  expedition.  As  he  lifted  these  on 
high  they  were  saluted  with  deafening  whoops, 
and  cries  of  exultation  and  savage  joy.  In  this 
manner  they  entered  the  village,  almost  before 
the  friends  of  those  fallen  in  the  fight  had  ascer- 
tained their  losses.  Then  the  shouts  of  delight 
were  converted  into  yells  of  grief ;  the  mothers  and 
wives  of  those  braves  who  had  been  killed  (and 
seven  had  "  gone  under  ")  presently  returned  with 
their  faces,  necks,  and  hands  blackened,  and 
danced  and  howled  round  the  scalp-pole,  which 
had  been  deposited  in  the  center  of  the  village,  in 
front  of  the  lodge  of  the  great  chief. 

Killbuck  now  learned  that  a  scout  having 
brought  intelligence  that  the  two  band's  of  Rapa- 
hos  were  hastening  to  form  a  junction,  as  soon  as 
they  learned  that  their  approach  was  discovered, 
the  Yutas  had  successfully  prevented  it ;  and  at- 
tacking one  party,  had  entirely  defeated  it,  kill- 
ing thirteen  of  the  Rapaho  braves.  The  other 
party  had  fled  on  seeing  the  issue  of  the  fight,  and 
a  few  of  the  Yuta  warriors  were  now  pursuing 
them. 

To  celebrate  so  signal  a  victory,  great  prepara- 
tions sounded  their  notes  through  the  village. 
Paints  —  vermilion  and  ochres,  red  and  yellow  — 
were  in  great  request;  whilst  the  scrapings  of 
charred  wood,  mixed  with  gunpowder,  were  used 
as  substitute  for  black,  the  medicine  color. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  73 

The  lodges  of  the  village,  numbering  some  two 
hundred  or  more,  were  erected  in  parallel  lines, 
and  covered  a  large  space  of  the  level  prairie  in 
shape  of  a  parallelogram.  In  the  center,  how- 
ever, the  space  which  half-a-dozen  lodges  in  length 
would  have  taken  up  was  left  unoccupied,  save  by 
one  large  one,  of  red-painted  buffalo-skins,  tat- 
tooed with  the  mystic  totems  of  the  medicine 
peculiar  to  the  nation.  In  front  of  this  stood  the 
grim  scalp-pole,  like  a  decaj'ed  tree-trunk,  its 
bloody  fruit  tossing  in  the  wind;  and  on  another 
pole,  at  a  few  feet  distance,  was  hung  the  bag 
with  its  mysterious  contents.  Before  each  lodge 
a  tripod  of  spears  supported  the  arms  and  shields 
of  the  Yuta  chivalry,  and  on  many  of  them  smoke- 
dried  scalps  rattled  in  the  wind,  former  trophies 
of  the  dusky  knights  who  were  arming  themselves 
within.  Heraldic  devices  were  not  wanting  — 
not,  however,  graved  upon  the  shield,  but  hang- 
ing from  the  spear-head,  the  actual  totem  of  the 
warrior  it  distinguished.  The  rattlesnake,  the 
otter,  the  carcajou,  the  mountain  badger,  the 
war-eagle,  the  konqua-kish,  the  porcupine,  the  fox, 
&c.,  dangled  their  well-stuffed  skins,  displaying 
the  guardian  medicine  of  the  warriors  they  per- 
tained to,  and  representing  the  mental  and  cor- 
poreal qualities  which  were  supposed  to  character- 
ize the  braves  to  whom  they  belonged. 

From  the  center  lodge,  two  or  three  medicine- 
men, fantastically  attired  in  the  skins  of  v/olves 


74.  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

and  bears,  and  bearing  long  poelod  wands  of 
cherry  in  their  hands,  occasionally  emerged  to  tend 
a  very  small  fire  which  they  had  kindled  in  the 
center  of  the  open  space;  and  when  a  thin  column 
of  smoke  arose,  one  of  them  planted  the  scalp- 
pole  obliquely  across  the  fire.  Squaws  in  robes 
of  white  dressed  buckskin,  garnished  with  beads 
and  porcupines'  quills,  and  their  faces  painted 
bright  red  and  black,  then  appeared.  These 
ranged  themselves  round  the  outside  of  the  square, 
the  boys  and  children  of  all  ages,  mounted  ©•n 
barebacked  horses,  galloping  round  and  round, 
and  screaming  with  eagerness,  excitement,  and 
curiosity. 

Presently  the  braves  and  warriors  made  their 
appearance,  and  squatted  round  the  fire  in  two 
circles,  those  who  had  been  engaged  on  the  ex- 
pedition being  in  the  first  or  smaller  one.  One 
medicine-man  sat  under  the  scalp-pole,  having  a 
drum  between  his  knees,  which  he  tapped  at  inter- 
vals with  his  hand,  eliciting  from  the  instrument 
a  hollow  monotonous  sound.  A  bevy  of  women, 
shoulder  to  shoulder,  then  advanced  from  the  four 
sides  of  the  square,  and  some,  shaking  a  rattle- 
dinim  in  time  with  their  steps,  commenced  a  jump- 
ing, jerking  dance,  now  lifting  one  foot  from  the 
ground,  and  now  rising  with  both,  accompanying" 
the  dance  with  a  chant,  which  swelled  from  a  low 
whisper  to  the  utmost  extent  of  their  voices  — 
now  dying  away,  and  again  bursting  into  vocifer- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  75 

ous  measure.  Thus  they  advanced  to  the  center 
and  retreated  to  their  former  positions ;  when  six 
squaws,  with  their  faces  painted  a  dead  black, 
made  their  appearance  from  the  crowd,  chanting, 
in  soft  and  sweet  measure,  a  lament  for  the  braves 
the  nation  had  lost  in  the  late  battle:  but  soon  as 
they  drew  near  the  scalp-pole,  their  melancholy 
note  changed  to  the  music  (to  them)  of  gratified 
revenge.  In  a  succession  of  jumps,  raising  the 
feet  alternately  but  a  little  distance  from  the 
ground,  they  made  their  way,  through  an  interval 
left  in  the  circle  of  warriors,  to  the  grim  pole,  and 
encircling  it,  danced  in  perfect  silence  round  it 
for  a  few  moments.  Then  they  burst  forth  with 
an  extempore  song,  laudatory  of  the  achievements 
of  their  victorious  braves.  They  addressed  the 
scalps  as  "  sisters  "  (to  be  called  a  squaw  is  the 
greatest  insult  that  can  be  offered  to  an  Indian), 
and,  spitting  at  them,  upbraided  them  with  their 
rashness  in  leaving  their  lodges  to  seek  for  Yuta 
husbands ;  *'  that  the  Yuta  warriors  and  young 
men  despised  them,  and  chastised  them  for  their 
forwardness  and  presumption,  bringing  back  their 
scalps  to  their  own  women." 

After  sufficiently  proving  that  they  had  any- 
thing but  lost  the  use  of  their  tongues,  but  pos- 
sessed, on  the  contrary,  as  fair  a  length  of  that 
formidable  weapon  as  any  of  their  sex,  they  with- 
drew, and  left  the  field  in  undisputed  possession 
of  the  men ;  who,  accompanied  by  tap  of  drum, 


7o  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

and  by  the  noise  of  many  rattles,  broke  out  into 
a  war-song,  in  which  their  own  valor  was  by  no 
means  hidden  in  a  bushel,  or  modestly  refused  the 
light  of  day.  After  this  came  the  more  interest- 
ing ceremony  of  a  warrior  "  counting  his  coups.'* 
A  young  brave,  with  his  face  painted  black, 
mounted  on  a  white  horse  mysteriously  marked 
with  red  clay,  and  naked  to  the  breech-clout,  hold- 
ing in  his  hand  a  long  taper  lance,  rode  into  the 
circle,  and  paced  slowly  round  it ;  then,  flourish- 
ing his  spear  on  high,  he  darted  to  the  scalp-pole, 
round  which  the  warriors  were  now  seated  in  a 
semicircle ;  and  in  a  loud  voice,  and  with  furious 
gesticulations,  related  his  exploits,  the  drums  tap- 
ping at  the  conclusion  of  each.  On  his  spear 
hung  seven  scalps,  and  holding  it  vertically  above 
his  head,  and  commencing  with  the  top  one,  he 
told  the  feats  in  which  he  had  raised  the  trophy 
hair.  When  he  had  run  through  these  the  drums 
tapped  loudly,  and  several  of  the  old  chiefs  shook 
their  rattles,  in  corroboration  of  the  truth  of  his 
achievements.  The  brave,  swelling  with  pride, 
then  pointed  to  the  fresh  and  bloody  scalps  hang- 
ing on  the  pole.  Two  of  these  had  been  torn  from 
the  heads  of  Rapahos  struck  by  liis  own  hand,  and 
this  feat,  the  exploit  of  the  day,  had  entitled  him 
to  the  honor  of  counting  his  coups.  Then,  stick- 
ing his  spear  int-r  the  ground  by  the  side  of  the 
pole,  he  struck  his  hand  twice  on  his  brawny  and 
naked  chest,  turnea  short   rc-.nd,   and,   swift  as 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  77 

the  antelope,  galloped  into  the  plain,  as  if  over- 
come by  the  shock  his  modesty  had  received  in  be- 
ing obliged  to  recount  his  own  high-sounding 
deeds. 

"  Wagh !  "  exclaimed  old  Killbuck,  as  he  left 
the  circle,  pointing  his  pipe-stem  towards  the  fast- 
fading  figure  of  the  brave,  "  that  Injun's  heart's 
about  as  big  as  ever  it  will  be,  I'm  thinking." 

With  the  Yutas,  Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  re- 
mained during  the  winter;  and  when  the  spring 
sun  had  opened  the  icebound  creeks,  and  melted 
the  snow  on  the  mountains,  and  its  genial  warmth 
had  expanded  the  earth  and  permitted  the  roots 
of  the  grass  to  "  live  "  once  more,  and  throw  out 
green  and  tender  shoots,  the  two  trappers  bade 
adieu  to  the  hospitable  Indians,  who  broke  up  their 
village  in  order  to  start  for  the  valleys  of  the  Del 
Norte.  As  they  followed  the  trail  from  the 
Bayou,  at  sundown,  just  as  they  thought  of  camp- 
ing, they  observed  ahead  of  them  a  solitary  horse- 
man *  riding  along,  followed  by  three  mules.  His 
hunting-frock  of  fringed  buckskin,  and  the  rifle 
resting  across  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  at  once  pro- 
claimed him  white ;  but  as  he  saw  the  mountaineers 
winding  through  the  canon,  driving  before  them 
half-a-dozen  horses,  he  judged  they  might  possibly 
be  Indians  and  enemies,  the  more  so  as  their  dress 
was  not  the  usual  costume  of  the  whites.  The 
trappers,  therefore,  saw  the  stranger  raise  the  rifle 
*  Evidently  Ruxton  himself.     (Ed.) 


78  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

in  the  hollow  of  his  arm,  and  gathering  up  his 
horse,  ride  steadily  to  meet  them,  as  soon  as  he 
observed  they  were  but  two ;  two  to  one  in  moun- 
tain calculation  being  scarcely  considered  odds, 
if  red  skin  to  white. 

However,  on  nearing  them,  the  stranger  dis- 
covered his  mistake,  and  throwing  his  rifle  across 
the  saddle  once  more  reined  in  his  horse  and  waited 
their  approach ;  for  the  spot  where  he  then  stood 
presented  an  excellent  camping-ground,  with  abun- 
dance of  dry  wood  and  convenient  water. 

"  Where  from,  stranger  ?  " 

*'  The  divide,  and  to  the  Bayou  for  meat ;  and 
you  are  from  there,  I  see.  Any  buffalo  come  in 
yet?" 

"  Heap,  and  seal-fat  at  that.  What's  the  sign 
out  on  the  plains?  " 

"War-party  of  Rapahos  passed  Squirrel  at 
sundown  yesterday,  and  nearly  raised  my  animals. 
Sign,  too,  of  more  on  left  fork  of  Boiling  Spring. 
No  buffalo  between  this  and  Bijou.  Do  you  feel 
like  camping?  " 

"  Well,  we  do.  But  whar's  your  campan- 
yeros  ?  " 

"  I'm  alone." 

"  Alone?  Wagh!  how  do  you  get  your  animals 
along?  " 

"  I  go  ahead,  and  they  follow  the  horse." 

"  Well,  that  beats  all !  That's  a  smart-looking 
hoss,  now;  and  runs  some,  I'm  thinking." 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  79 

"  WeU,  it  does." 

"  Whar's  them  mules  from?  They  look  like 
Californj." 

"  Mexican  country  —  away  down  south." 

*'  H— !     Whar's  yourself  from.?  " 

"  There  away,  too." 

"What's  beaver  worth  in  Taos?" 

"  Dollar." 

"In  Saint  Louiy?  " 

"  Same." 

"  H— !     Any  call  for  buckskin?  " 

"  A  heap !  The  soldiers  in  Santa  Fe  are  half 
froze  for  leather ;  and  moccasins  fetch  two  dollars 
easy." 

"  Wagh!  How's  trade  on  Arkansa,  and  what's 
doin'  to  the  Fort?" 

"  Shians  at  Big  Timber,  and  Bent's  people  trad- 
ing smart.  On  North  Fork,  Jim  Waters  got  a 
hundred  pack  right  off,  and  Sioux  making  more." 

"Whar's  Bill  Williams?" 

"  Gone  under,  they  say :  the  Diggers  took  his 
hair." 

"  How's  powder  goin'  ?  " 

"  Two  dollars  a  pint." 

"Bacca?" 

"  A  plew  a  plug." 

*'  Got  any  about  you?  " 

"  Have  so." 

*'  Give  us  a  chaw ;  and  now  let's  camp." 

Whilst  unpacking  their  own  animals,  the  two 


80  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

trappers  could  not  refrain  from  glancing,  every 
now  and  then,  with  no  little  astonishment,  at  the 
solitary  stranger  they  had  so  unexpectedly  en- 
countered. If  truth  be  told,  his  appearance  not 
a  little  perplexed  them.  His  hunting-frock  of 
buckskin,  shining  with  grease,  and  fringed  panta- 
loons, over  which  the  well-greased  butcher-knife 
had  evidently  been  often  wiped  after  cutting  his 
food  or  butchering  the  carcass  of  deer  and  buffalo, 
were  of  genuine  mountain-make.  His  face,  clean 
shaved,  exhibited,  in  its  well-tanned  and  weather- 
beaten  complexion,  the  effects  of  such  natural  cos- 
metics as  sun  and  wind ;  and  under  the  mountain- 
hat  of  felt  which  covered  his  head,  long  uncut  hair 
hung  in  Indian  fashion  on  his  shoulders.  All  this 
would  have  passed  muster,  had  it  not  been  for  the 
most  extraordinary  equipment  of  a  double-bar- 
reled rifle,  which,  when  it  had  attracted  the  eyes 
of  the  mountaineers,  elicited  no  little  astonish- 
ment, not  to  say  derision.  But  perhaps  nothing 
excited  their  admiration  so  much  as  the  perfect 
docility  of  the  stranger's  animals,  which,  almost 
like  dogs,  obeyed  his  voice  and  call ;  and  albeit 
that  one,  in  a  small  sharp  head  and  pointed  ears, 
expanded  nostrils,  and  eye  twinkling  and  mali- 
cious, exhibited  the  personification  of  a  lurking 
devil,  yet  they  could  not  but  admire  the  perfect 
ease  with  which  even  this  one,  in  common  with 
the  rest,  permitted  herself  to  be  handled. 

Dismounting,  and  unhitching  from  the  horn  of 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  81 

his  saddle  the  coil  of  skin  rope,  one  end  of  which 
was  secured  round  the  neck  of  the  horse,  he  pro- 
ceeded to  unsaddle;  and  whilst  so  engaged,  the 
three  mules,  two  of  which  were  packed,  one  with 
the  unbutchered  carcass  of  a  deer,  the  other  with 
a  pack  of  skins,  &c.,  followed  leisurely  into  the 
space  chosen  for  the  camp,  and,  cropping  the 
grass  at  their  ease,  waited  until  a  whistle  called 
them  to  be  unpacked. 

The  horse  was  a  strong  square-built  bay ;  and 
although  the  severities  of  a  prolonged  winter,  with 
scanty  pasture  and  long  and  trying  travel,  had 
robbed  his  bones  of  fat  and  flesh,  tucked  up  his 
flank,  and  "  ewed  "  his  neck,  still  his  clean  and 
well-set  legs,  oblique  shoulder,  and  withers  fine  as 
a  deer's,  in  spite  of  his  gaunt  half-starved  appear- 
ance, bore  ample  testimony  as  to  what  he  had 
been ;  while  his  clear  cheerful  eye,  and  the  hearty 
appetite  with  which  he  fell  to  work  on  the  coarse 
grass  of  the  bottom,  proved  that  he  had  something 
in  him  still,  and  was  game  as  ever.  His  tail, 
gnawed  by  the  mules  in  days  of  strait,  attracted 
the  observant  mountaineers. 

"  Hard  doin's  when  it  come  to  that,"  remarked 
La  Bonte. 

Between  the  horse  and  two  of  the  mules  a  mu- 
tual and  great  affection  appeared  to  subsist, 
which  was  no  more  than  natural,  when  their  mas- 
ter observed  to  his  companions  that  they  had 
traveled  together  upwards  of  two  thousand  miles. 


m  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

One  of  these  mules  was  a  short,  thick-set, 
stumpy  animal,  with  an  enormous  head  surmounted 
by  proportionable  ears,  and  a  pair  of  unusually 
large  eyes,  beaming  the  most  perfect  good  temper 
and  docility  (most  uncommon  qualities  in  a  mule). 
Her  neck  was  thick,  and  rendered  more  so  in  ap- 
pearance by  reason  of  her  mane  not  being  roached 
(or,  in  English,  hogged),  which  privilege  she  alone 
enjoyed  of  the  trio;  and  her  short  strong  legs, 
ending  in  small,  round,  cat-like  hoofs,  \Tere  feath- 
ered with  a  profusion  of  dark-brown  hair. 

As  she  stood  stock-still  whilst  the  stranger  re- 
moved the  awkwardly  packed  deer  from  her  back, 
she  flapped  her  huge  ears  backward  and  forward, 
occasionally  turning  her  head,  and  laying  her  cold 
nose  against  her  master's  cheek.  When  the  pack 
was  removed  he  advanced  to  her  head,  and  rest- 
ing it  on  his  shoulder,  rubbed  her  broad  and  griz- 
zled cheeks  with  both  his  hands  for  several  min- 
utes, the  old  mule  laying  her  ears,  like  a  rab- 
bit, back  upon  her  neck,  and  with  half-closed  eyes 
enjoyed  mightily  the  manipulation.  Then,  giv- 
ing her  a  smack  upon  the  haunch,  and  a  "  hep-a  " 
well  known  to  the  mule  kind,  the  old  favorite  threw 
up  her  heels  and  cantered  off  to  the  horse,  who 
was  busily  cropping  the  buffalo  grass  on  the  bluff 
above  the  stream. 

Great  was  the  contrast  between  the  one  just 
described  and  the  next  which  came  up  to  be  di- 
vested of  her  pack.     She,  a  tall  beautifully-shaped 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  83 

Mexican  mule,  of  a  light  mouse  color,  with  a  head 
like  a  deer's,  and  long  springy  legs,  trotted  up 
obedient  to  the  call,  but  with  ears  bent  back  and 
curled-up  nose,  and  tail  compressed  between  her 
legs.  As  her  pack  was  being  removed,  she  groaned 
and  whined  like  a  dog  as  a  thong  or  loosened  strap 
touched  her  ticklish  bod>%  lifting  her  hind  quar- 
ters in  a  succession  of  jumps  or  preparatory  kicks, 
and  looked  wicked  as  a  panther.  When  nothing 
but  the  fore  pack-saddle  remained,  she  had  worked 
herself  into  the  last  stage;  and  as  the  stranger 
cast  loose  the  girth  of  buifalo-hide,  and  was  about 
to  lift  the  saddle  and  draw  the  crupper  from  the 
tail,  she  drew  her  hind  legs  under  her,  more  tightly 
compressed  her  tail,  and  almost  shrieked  with  rage. 

"  Stand  clear,"  he  roared  (knowing  what  was 
coming),  and  raised  the  saddle,  when  out  went  her 
hind  legs,  up  went  the  pack  into  the  air,  and,  with 
it  dangling  at  her  heels,  away  she  tore,  kicking 
the  offending  saddle  as  she  ran.  Her  master, 
however,  took  this  as  matter  of  course,  followed 
her  and  brought  back  the  saddle,  which  he  piled 
on  the  others  to  windward  of  the  fire  one  of  the 
trappers  was  kindling.  Fire-making  is  a  simple 
process  with  the  mountaineers.  Their  bullet- 
pouches  always  contain  a  flint  and  steel,  and  sun- 
dry pieces  of  "punk"*  or  tinder;  and  pulling 
a  handful  of  dry  grass,  which  they  screw  into  a 
nest,   they   place   the   lighted  punk   in   this,   and, 

*  A  pithy  substance  found  in  dead  trees. 


84  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

closing  the  grass  over  it,  wave  it  in  the  air,  when 
it  soon  ignites,  and  readily  kindles  the  dry  sticks 
forming  the  foundation  of  the  fire. 

The  tidbits  of  the  deer  the  stranger  had  brought 
in  were  soon  roasting  over  the  fire ;  whilst,  as  soon 
as  the  burning  logs  had  deposited  a  sufficiency  of 
ashes,  a  hole  was  raked  in  them,  and  the  head  of 
the  deer,  skin,  hair,  and  all,  placed  in  this  primi- 
tive oven,  and  carefully  covered  with  the  hot  ashes. 

A  "  heap  "  of  fat  meat  in  perspective,  our  moun- 
taineers enjoyed  their  anteprandial  pipes,  recount- 
ing the  news  of  the  respective  regions  whence  they 
came ;  and  so  well  did  they  like  each  other's  com- 
pany, so  sweet  Avas  the  honeydew  tobacco  of  which 
the  strange  hunter  had  good  store,  so  plentiful 
the  game  about  the  creek,  and  so  abundant  the 
pasture  for  their  winter-starved  animals,  that  be- 
fore the  carcass  of  the  two-year  buck  had  been 
more  than  four-fifths  consumed  —  and  although 
rib  after  rib  had  been  picked  and  chucked  over 
their  shoulders  to  the  wolves,  a,nd  one  fore  leg 
and  the  "  bit  "  of  all,  the  head,  were  still  cooked 
before  them  —  the  three  had  come  to  the  resolu- 
tion to  join  company,  and  hunt  in  their  present 
locality  for  a  few  days  at  least  —  the  owner  of 
the  "  two-shoot "  gun  volunteering  to  fill  their 
horns  with  powder,  and  find  tobacco  for  theii 
pipes. 

Here,  on  plenty  of  meat,  of  venison,  bear,  and 
antelope,  they  merrily  luxuriated ;  returning  after 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  85 

their  daily  hunts  to  the  brightly-burning  camp- 
fire,  where  one  always  remained  to  guard  the  ani- 
mals, and  unloading  their  packs  of  meat  (all  choic- 
est portions),  ate  late  into  the  night,  and,  smok- 
ing, wiled  away  the  time  in  narrating  scenes  in 
their  hard-spent  lives,  and  fighting  their  battles 
o'er  again. 

The  younger  of  the  trappers,  he  who  has  fig- 
ured under  the  name  of  La  Bonte,  had  excited,  by 
scraps  and  patches  from  his  history,  no  little  curi- 
osity in  the  stranger's  mind  to  learn  the  ups  and 
downs  of  his  career ;  and  one  night,  when  they  as- 
sembled earlier  than  usual  at  the  fire,  he  pre- 
vailed upon  the  modest  trapper  to  "  unpack " 
some  passages  in  his  wild  adventurous  life. 

"  Maybe,"  commenced  the  mountaineer,  "  you 
both  remember  when  old  Ashley  went  out  with  the 
biggest  kind  of  band  to  trap  the  Columbia  and 
head-waters  of  Missoura  and  Yellow  Stone.  Well, 
that  was  the  time  this  nigger  first  felt  like  taking 
to  the  mountains." 

Tliis  brings  us  back  to  the  year  of  our  Lord 
1825 ;  and  perhaps  it  will  be  as  well,  in  order  to 
render  La  Bonte's  mountain  language  intelligible, 
to  translate  it  at  once  into  tolerable  English,  and 
to  tell  in  the  third  person,  but  from  his  own  lips, 
the  scrapes  which  befell  him  in  a  sojourn  of  more 
than  twenty  years  in  the  Far  West,  and  the  causes 
that  impelled  him  to  quit  the  comfort  and  civili- 
zation of  his  home,  to  seek  the  perilous  but  en- 


86  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

gaging  life  of  a  trapper  of  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains. 

La  Bonte  *  was  raised  in  the  state  of  Mississippi, 
not  far  from  Memphis,  on  the  left  bank  of  that 
huge  and  snag-filled  river.  His  father  was  a  Saint 
Louis  Frenchman,  his  mother  a  native  of  Tennes- 
see. When  a  boy,  our  trapper  was  "  some,"  he 
said,  with  the  rifle,  and  always  had  a  hankering 
for  the  West;  particularly  when,  on  accompany- 
ing his  father  to  Saint  Louis  every  spring,  he  saw 
the  different  bands  of  traders  and  hunters  start 
upon  their  annual  expeditions  to  the  mountains. 
Greatly  did  he  envy  the  independent  insouciant 
trappers,  as,  in  all  the  glory  of  beads  and  buck- 
skin, they  shouldered  their  rifles  at  Jake  Hawk- 
en's  door  (the  rifle-maker  of  Saint  Louis),  and 
bade  adieu  to  the  cares  and  trammels  of  civilized 
life. 

However,  irke  a  thoughtless  beaver-kitten,  he 
put  his  foot  into  a  trap  one  fine  day,  set  by  Mary 
Brand,f  a  neighbor's  daughter,  and  esteemed 
"  some  punkins  " —  or,  in  other  words,  toasted 
as  the  beauty  of  the  county  —  by  the  suscep- 
tible Mississippians.  From  that  moment  he  was 
*'  gone  beaver ;  "  "  he  felt  queer,"  he  said,  "  all 
over,  like  a  buff'alo  shot  in  the  lights ;  he  had  no 

*  The  name  of  this  trapper  is  perpetuated  in  La  Bont6 
Creek,  which  enters  the  Platte  River  GQ  miles  above  the 
mouth  of  the  Laramie,  on  the  old  Oreccon  trail.     (Ed.) 

t  Mary  Chase.     See  introduction  to  this   volume.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  8' 

relish  for  mush  and  molasses;  hominy  and  johnny 
cakes  failed  to  excite  his  appetite.  Deer  and  tur- 
ke3^s  ran  by  him  unscathed ;  he  didn't  know,  he 
said,  whether  his  rifle  had  hind-sights  or  not.  He 
felt  bad,  that  was  a  fact;  but  what  ailed  him  he 
didn't  know." 

Mary  Brand  —  Mary  Brand  —  Mary  Brand! 
the  old  Dutch  clock  ticked  it.  Mary  Brand!  his 
head  throbbed  it  when  he  lay  down  to  sleep. 
Mary  Brand!  his  riflelock  spoke  it  plainly  when 
he  cocked  it,  to  raise  a  shaking  sight  at  a  deer. 
Mary  Brand,  Mary  Brand!  the  whip-poor-will 
sang  it  instead  of  her  own  well-known  note ;  the 
bull-frogs  croaked  it  in  the  swamp,  and  mosquitoes 
droned  it  in  his  ear  as  he  tossed  about  his  bed 
at  night,  wakeful,  and  striving  to  think  what 
ailed  him. 

Who  could  that  strapping  young  fellow  who 
passed  the  door  just  now  be  going  to  see?  Mary 
Brand :  Mary  Brand.  And  who  can  big  Pete  Her- 
ring be  dressing  that  silver-fox  skin  so  carefully 
for?  For  whom  but  Mary  Brand?  And  who  is 
it  that  jokes  and  laughs  and  dances  with  all  the 
"boys"  but  him;  and  why? 

Who  but  Mary  Brand:  and  because  the  love- 
sick booby  carefully  avoids  her. 

"  And  Mary  Brand  herself  —  what  is  she  like  ?  " 

**  She's  some  now ;  that  is  a  fact,  and  the  big- 
gest kind  of  punkin  at  that,"  would  have  been  the 
answer   from   any   man,   woman,    or   child   in   the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

/county,  and  truly  spoken  too ;  always  understand- 
ing that  the  pumpkin  is  the  fruit  by  which  the 
ne  plus  ultra  of  female  perfection  is  expressed 
amongst   the   figuratively-speaking   westerns. 

Being  an  American  woman,  of  course  she  was 
tall,  and  straight  and  slim  as  a  hickory  sapling, 
well  foiTTied  withal,  with  rounded  bust,  and  neck 
white  and  slender  as  the  swan's.  Her  features 
were  small,  but  finely  chiselled :  and  in  this,  it  may 
be  remarked,  the  lower  orders  of  the  American' 
woman  differ  from  and  far  surpass  the  same  class 
in  England,  or  elsewhere,  where  the  features,  al- 
though far  prettier,  are  more  vulgar  and  common- 
place. Mary  Brand  had  the  bright  blue  eye,  thin 
nose,  and  small  but  sweetly-formed  mouth,  the 
too  fair  complexion  and  dark-brown  hair,  which 
characterize  the  beauty  of  the  Anglo-Amencan, 
the  heavy  masses  (hardly  curls)  that  fell  over 
her  face  and  neck  contrasting  with  her  polished 
whiteness.  Such  was  Mary  Brand ;  and  when  to 
her  good  looks  are  added  a  sweet  disposition  and 
all  the  best  qualities  of  a  thrifty  housewife,  it 
must  be  allowed  that  she  fully  justified  the  eulo- 
giums  of  the  good  people  of  IMemphis. 

Well,  to  cut  a  love-story  short,  in  doing  which 
not  a  little  moral  courage  is  shown,  young  La 
Bonte  fell  desperately  in  love  with  the  pretty 
Mary,  and  she  with  him ;  and  small  blame  to  her, 
for  he  was  a  proper  lad  of  twenty  —  six  feet  in 
his  moccasins  —  the  best  hunter  and  rifle-shot  in 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  89 

the  country,  with  many  other  advantages  too 
numerous  to  mention.  But  when  did  the  course, 
&c.,  e'er  run  smooth?  When  the  affair  had  be- 
come a  recognized  "  courting "  (and  Americans 
alone  know  the  horrors  of  such  prolonged  pur- 
gatory), they  became,  to  use  La  Bonte's  words, 
"  awful  fond,"  and  consequently  about  once  a- 
week  had  their  tiffs  and  make-ups. 

However,  on  one  occasion,  at  a  husking,  and 
during  one  of  these  tiffs,  Mary,  every  inch  a 
woman,  to  gratify  some  indescribable  feeling, 
brought  to  her  aid  jealousy  —  that  old  serpent 
who  has  caused  such  mischief  in  this  world ;  and 
by  a  flirtation  over  the  corn-cobs  with  big  Pete, 
La  Bonte's  former  and  only  rival,  struck  so  hard 
a  blow  at  the  latter's  heart,  that  on  the  moment 
his  brain  caught  fire,  blood  danced  before  his  eyes, 
and  he  became  like  one  possessed.  Pete  observed 
and  enjoyed  his  struggling  emotion  —  better  for 
him  had  he  minded  his  corn-shelling  alone  ;  —  and 
the  more  to  annoy  his  rival,  paid  the  most  sedulous 
attention  to  pretty  Mary. 

Young  La  Bonte  stood  it  as  long  as  human 
nature,  at  boiling  heat,  could  endure  4  but  when 
Pete,  in  the  exultation  of  his  apparent  triumph, 
crowned  his  success  by  encircling  the  slender  waist 
of  the  girl  with  his  arm,  and  snatching  a  sudden 
kiss,  he  jumped  upright  from  his  seat,  and  seiz- 
ing a  small  whiskey-keg  which  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  corn-shellers,  he  hurled  it  at  his  rival,  and 


90  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

crying  to  him,  hoarse  with  passion,  "  to  follow 
if  he  was  a  man,"  he  left  the  house. 

At  that  time,  and  even  now,  in  the  remoter 
States  of  the  western  country,  rifles  settled  even 
the  most  trivial  differences  between  the  hot-blooded 
youths ;  and  of  such  frequent  occurrence  and  in- 
variably bloody  termination  did  these  encounters 
become,  that  they  scarcely  produced  sufficient  ex- 
citement to  draw  together  half-a-dozen  spectators. 

In  the  present  case,  however,  so  public  was  the 
quarrel  and  so  well  known  the  parties  concerned, 
that  not  only  the  people  who  had  witnessed  the 
affair,  but  all  the  neighborhood,  thronged  to  the 
scene  of  action,  in  a  large  field  in  front  of  the 
house,  where  the  preliminaries  of  a  duel  between 
Pete  and  La  Bonte  were  being  arranged  by  their 
respective  friends. 

Mary,  when  she  discovered  the  mischief  her 
thoughtlessness  was  likely  to  occasion,  was  almost 
beside  herself  with  grief,  but  she  knew  how  vain  it 
would  be  to  attempt  to  interfere.  The  poor  girl, 
who  was  most  ardently  attached  to  La  Bonte,  was 
carried  swooning  into  the  house,  where  all  the 
women  congregated,  and  were  locked  in  by  old 
Brand,  who,  himself  an  old  pioneer,  thought  but 
little  of  bloodshed,  but  refused  to  let  the  women 
folk  witness  the  affray. 

Preliminaries  arranged,  the  combatants  took  up 
their  respective  positions  at  either  end  of  a  space 
marked  for  the  purpose,  at  forty  paces  from  each 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  91 

other.  They  were  both  armed  with  heavy  rifles, 
and  had  the  usual  hunting  pouches,  containing 
ammunition,  hanging  over  the  shoulder.  Stand- 
ing with  the  butts  of  their  rifles  on  the  ground, 
they  confronted  each  other ;  and  the  crowd,  draw- 
ing away  a  few  paces  only  on  each  side,  left  one 
man  to  give  the  word.  This  was  the  single  word 
"  fire ;  "  and  after  this  signal  was  given,  the  com- 
batants were  at  liberty  to  fire  away  until  one  or 
the  other  dropped. 

At  the  word,  both  the  men  quickly  raised  their 
rifles  to  the  shoulder;  and  whilst  the  sharp  cracks 
instantaneously  rang,  they  were  seen  to  flinch,  as 
either  felt  the  pinging  sensation  of  a  bullet  enter- 
ing his  flesh.  Regarding  each  other  steadily  for 
a  few  moments,  the  blood  running  down  La  Bonte's 
neck  from  a  wound  under  the  left  jaw,  whilst  his 
opponent  was  seen  to  place  his  hand  once  to  his 
right  breast,  as  if  to  feel  the  position  of  his 
wound,  they  commenced  reloading  their  rifles. 
But  as  Pete  was  in  the  act  of  forcing  down  the 
ball  with  his  long  hickory  wiping-stick,  he  sud- 
denly dropped  his  right  arm  —  the  rifle  slipped 
from  his  grasp  —  and,  reeling  for  a  moment  like 
a  drunken  man,  he  fell  dead  to  the  ground. 

Even  here,  however,  there  was  law  of  some  kind 
or  another ;  and  the  consequences  of  the  duel  were, 
that  the  constables  were  soon  on  the  trail  of  La 
Bonte  to  arrest  him.  He  easily  avoided  them ; 
and,  taking  to  the  woods,  lived  for  several  days  in 


92  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

as  wild  a  state  as  the  beasts  he  hunted  and  killed 
for  his  support. 

Tired  of  this,  he  at  last  resolved  to  quit  the 
country  and  Lctake  himself  to  the  mountains,  for 
which  life  he  had  ever  felt  an  inclination. 

When,  therefore,  he  thought  the  officers  of  jus- 
tice had  grown  slack  in  their  search  of  him,  and 
that  the  coast  was  comparatively  clear,  he  deter- 
mined to  start  on  his  distant  expedition  to  the 
Far  West. 

Once  more,  before  he  carried  his  project  into 
execution,  he  sought  and  obtained  a  last  inter- 
view with  Mary  Brand. 

"  Mary,"  said  he,  "  I'm  about  to  break. 
They're  hunting  me  like  a  fall  buck,  and  I'm 
bound  to  quit.  Don't  think  any  more  about  me, 
for  I  shall  never  come  back." 

Poor  Mary  burst  into  tears,  and  bent  her  head 
on  the  table  near  which  she  sat.  When  she  again 
raised  it,  she  saw  La  Bonte,  his  long  rifle  upon  his 
shoulder,  striding  with  rapid  steps  from  the  house. 
Year  after  year  rolled  on,  and  he  did  not  return. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  FEW  days  after  his  departure,  La  Bonte 
found  himself  at  St.  Louis,  the  empor- 
ium of  the  fur-trade,  and  the  fast-rising 
metropolis  of  the  precocious  settlements  of  the 
West.  Here,  a  prey  to  the  agony  of  mind  wliich 
jealousy,  remorse,  and  blighted  love  mix  into  a 
very  puchero  of  misery,  he  got  into  the  company 
of  certain  rowdies,  a  class  that  every  western  city 
particularly  abounds  in;  and  anxious  to  drown 
his  sorrows  in  any  way,  and  quite  unscrupulous 
as  to  the  means,  he  plunged  into  all  the  vicious 
excitements  of  drinking,  gambling,  and  fighting, 
which  form  the  every-day  amusements  of  the  ris- 
ing generation  of  St.  Louis. 

Perhaps  in  no  other  part  of  the  United  States 
—  where,  indeed,  humanity  is  frequently  to  be  seen 
in  many  curious  and  unusual  phases  —  is  there  a 
population  so  marked  in  its  general  character,  and 
at  the  same  time  divided  into  such  distinct  classes, 
as  in  the  above-named  city.  Dating,  as  it  does, 
its   foundation  from  yesterday,* —  for  what  are 

*  He  means  as  an  American  city.  St.  Louis  was  founded 
by  the  French  in  1764;  transferred  to  the  United  States  in 
1804.     (Ed.) 

93 


94  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

forty  years  in  the  growth  of  a  metropolis?  —  its 
founders  are  now  scarcely  past  middle  life,  re- 
garding with  astonishment  the  growing  works  of 
their  hands ;  and  whilst  gazing  upon  its  busy 
quays,  piled  with  grain  and  other  produce  of  the 
West,  its  fleets  of  huge  steamboats  lying  tier  upon 
tier  alongside  the  wharves,  its  well-stored  ware- 
houses, and  all  the  bustling  concomitants  of  a 
great  commercial  depot,  they  can  scarcely  realize 
the  memory  of  a  few  short  years,  when  on  the  same 
spot  nothing  was  to  be  seen  but  the  miserable 
hovels  of  a  French  village  —  the  only  sign  of  com- 
merce being  the  unwieldy  bateaux  of  the  Indian 
traders,  laden  with  peltries  from  the  distant  re- 
gions of  the  Platte  and  Upper  Missouri.  Where 
now  intelligent  and  wealthy  merchants  walk  erect, 
in  conscious  substantiality  of  purse  and  credit, 
and  direct  the  commerce  of  a  vast  and  well-peo- 
pled region,  there  stalked  but  the  other  day,  in 
dress  of  buckskin,  the  Indian  trader  of  the  West; 
and  all  the  evidences  of  life,  mayhap,  consisted  of 
the  eccentric  vagaries  of  the  different  bands  of 
trappers  and  hardy  mountaineers  who  accom- 
panied, some  for  pleasure  and  some  as  escort,  the 
periodically  arriving  bateaux,  laden  with  the 
beaver-skins  and  buffalo-robes  collected  during  the 
season  at  the  different  trading-posts  in  the  Far 
West.* 

These,  nevertheless,  were  the  men  whose  hardy 

♦Written  in  1848.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  95 

enterprise  opened  to  commerce  and  the  plow  the 
vast  and  fertile  regions  of  the  West.  Rough  and 
savage  though  they  were,  they  were  the  time  pion- 
eers of  that  extraordinary  tide  of  civilization 
which  has  poured  its  resistless  current  through 
tracts  large  enough  for  kings  to  govern,  over  a 
country  now  teeming  with  cultivation,  where,  a 
few  short  years  ago,  countless  herds  of  buffalo 
roamed  unmolested,  where  the  bear  and  deer 
abounded,  and  the  savage  Indian  skulked  through 
the  woods  and  prairies,  lord  of  the  unappreciated 
soil  that  now  yields  its  prolific  treasures  to  the 
spade  and  plow  of  civilized  man.  To  the  wild 
and  half-savage  trapper,  who  may  be  said  to  ex- 
emplify the  energy,  enterprise,  and  hardihood 
characteristic  of  the  American  people,  divested  of 
all  the  false  and  vicious  glare  with  which  a  high 
state  of  civilization,  too  rapidly  attained,  has  ob- 
scured their  real  and  genuine  character,  in  which 
the  above  traits  are  eminently  prominent  —  to 
these  men  alone  is  due  the  empire  of  the  West, 
destined  in  a  few  short  years  to  become  the  most 
important  of  those  confederated  States  compos- 
ing the  mighty  Union  of  North  America. 

Sprung,  then,  out  of  the  wild  and  adventurous 
fur-trade,  St.  Louis,  still  the  emporium  of  that 
species  of  commerce,  preserves  even  now,  in  the 
character  of  its  population,  many  of  the  marked 
peculiarities  distinguisliing  its  early  founders,  who 
were  identified  with  the  primitive  Indian  in  hardi- 


m  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

hood  and  instinctive  wisdom.  Whilst  the  French 
portion  of  the  population  retain  the  thoughtless 
levity  and  frivolous  disposition  of  their  original 
source,  the  Americans  of  St.  Louis,  who  may  lay 
claim  to  be  native,  as  it  were,  are  as  strongly  dis- 
tinguished for  determination  and  energy  of  char- 
acter as  they  are  for  physical  strength  and  ani- 
mal courage;  and  are  remarkable,  at  the  same 
time,  for  a  singular  aptitude  in  carrying  out  com- 
mercial enterprises  to  successful  terminations,  ap- 
parently incompatible  with  the  thirst  of  adventure 
and  excitement  which  forms  so  prominent  a  feature 
in  their  character.  In  St.  Louis  and  with  her 
merchants  have  originated  many  commercial  en- 
terprises of  gigantic  speculation,  not  confined  to 
the  inmiediate  locality  or  to  the  distant  Indian 
fur-trade,  but  embracing  all  parts  of  the  con- 
tinent, and  even  a  portion  of  the  Old  World.  And 
here  it  must  be  remembered  that  St.  Louis  is  situ- 
ated inland,  at  a  distance  of  upwards  of  one  thou- 
sand miles  from  the  sea. 

Besides  her  merchants  and  upper  class,  who 
form  a  little  aristocracy  even  here,  a  large  portion 
of  her  population,  still  connected  with  the  Indian 
and  fur  trade,  preserve  all  their  original  character- 
istics, unacted  upon  by  the  influence  of  advancing 
civilization.  There  is,  moreover,  a  large  float- 
ing population  of  foreigners  of  all  nations,  who 
must  possess  no  little  amount  of  enterprise  to  be 
tempted  to  this  spot,  whence  they  spread  over  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  97 

remote  western  tracts,  still  infested  by  the  sav- 
age ;  so  that,  if  any  of  their  blood  is  infused  into 
the  native  population,  the  characteristic  energy 
and  enterprise  is  increased,  and  not  tempered  down 
by  the  foreign  cross. 

But  perhaps  the  most  singular  of  the  casual 
population  are  the  mountaineers,  who,  after  sev- 
eral seasons  spent  in  trapping,  and  with  good 
store  of  dollars,  arrive  from  the  scene  of  their  ad- 
ventures, wild  as  savages,  determined  to  enjoy 
themselves,  for  a  time,  in  all  the  gayety  and  dis- 
sipation of  the  western  city.  In  one  of  the  back 
streets  of  the  town  is  a  tavern  well  known  as  the 
Rocky-Mountain  House ;  and  hither  the  trappers 
resort,  drinking  and  fighting  as  long  as  their 
money  lasts,  which,  as  they  are  generous  and  lav- 
ish as  Jack  Tars,  is  for  a  few  days  only.  Such 
scenes,  both  tragic  and  comic,  as  are  enacted  in 
the  Rocky-Mountain  House,  are  beyond  the  powers 
of  pen  to  describe;  and  when  a  fandango  is  in 
progress,  to  which  congregate  the  coquettish  belles 
from  "  Vide  Poche,"  *  as  the  French  portion  of  the 
suburb  is  nicknamed,  the  grotesque  endeavors  of 
the  bear-like  mountaineers  to  sport  a  figure  on 
the  light  fantastic  toe,  and  their  insertions  into 
the  dance  of  the  mystic  jumps  of  Terpsichorean 
Indians  when  engaged  in  the  "  medicine  "  dances 
in  honor  of  bear,  of  buffalo,  or  ravished  scalp,  are 

*  Empty    Pocket:  A    humorous    nickname    that    the    old 
French  bestowed  upon  Carondelet.     {Ed.) 


98  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

such  startling  innovations  on  the  choreographic 
art  as  would  make  the  shade  of  Gallini  quake  and 
gibber  in  his  pumps. 

Passing  the  open  doors  and  windows  of  the 
Mountain  House,  the  stranger  stops  short  as  the 
sounds  of  violin  and  banjo  twang  upon  his  ears, 
accompanied  by  extraordinary  noises  —  sounding 
unearthly  to  the  greenhorn  listener,  but  recog- 
nized by  the  initiated  as  an  Indian  song  roared  out 
of  the  stentorian  lungs  of  a  mountaineer,  who, 
patting  his  stomach  with  open  hands  to  improve 
the  necessary  shake,  choruses  the  well-known  In- 
dian chant : — 

Hi  — Hi  — Hi  — Hi 

Hi-i  —  Hi-i  —  Hi-i  —  Hi-i 
Hi-ya  —  hi-ya  —  hi-ya  —  hi-ya 

Hi-ya  —  hi-ya  —  hi-ya  —  hi-ya 
Hi-ya  —  hi-ya  —  hi  —  hi, 
&c.,  &c.,  &c. 

and  polishes  off  the  high  notes  with  a  whoop  which 
makes  the  old  wooden  houses  shake  again,  as  it 
rattles  and  echoes  down  the  street. 

Here,  over  fiery  "  monaghahela,"  Jean  Batiste, 
the  sallow  half-breed  voyageur  from  the  North 
—  and  who,  deserting  the  service  of  the  "  North- 
West  "  (the  Hudson's  Bay  Company),  has  come 
down  the  Mississippi,  from  the  "  Falls,"  to  try 
the  sweets  and  liberty  of  "  free  "  trapping  —  hob- 
nobs with  a  stalwart  leather-clad  "  boy,"  just  re- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  99 

turned  from  trapping  on  the  waters  of  Grand 
River,  on  the  western  side  the  mountains,  who  in- 
terlards his  mountain  jargon  with  Spanish  words 
picked  up  in  Taos  and  California.  In  one  corner 
a  trapper,  lean  and  gaunt  from  the  starving  re- 
gions of  the  Yellow  Stone,  has  just  recognized 
an  old  campanyero,  with  whom  he  hunted  years 
before  in  the  perilous  country  of  the  Blackfeet. 

"  Why,  John,  old  hoss,  how  do  you  come  on?  " 

"  What !  Meek,  old  'coon !  I  thought  you 
were  under?  " 

One  from  Arkansa  stalks  into  the  center  of  the 
room,  with  a  pack  of  cards  in  his  hand  and  a 
handful  of  dollars  in  his  hat.  Squatting  cross- 
legged  on  a  buiFalo-robe,  he  smacks  down  the 
money  and  cries  out  "  Ho,  boys !  hyar's  a  deck, 
and  hyar's  the  beaver  "  (rattling  the  coin)  ;  "  who 
dar  set  his  hoss?     Wagh  !  " 

Tough  are  the  yarns  of  wondrous  hunts  and 
Indian  perils,  of  hairbreadth  'scapes  and  curious 
"  fixes."  Transcendent  are  the  qualities  of  sun- 
dry rifles  which  call  these  hunters  masters ; 
"  plum  "  is  the  "  center "  each  vaunted  barrel 
shoots ;  sufficing  for  a  hundred  wigs  is  the  "  hair  " 
each  hunter  has  "  lifted  "  from  Indians'  scalps ; 
multitudinous  the  "  coups  "  he  has  "  struck."  As 
they  drink  so  do  they  brag,  first  of  their  guns, 
their  horses,  and  their  squaws,  and  lastly  of  them- 
selves :  and  when  it  comes  to  that,  "  ware  steel." 

La  Bonte,  on  his  arrival  at  St.  Louis,   found 


100  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

himself  one  day  in  no  less  a  place  than  this ;  and 
here  he  made  acquaintance  with  an  old  trapper 
about  to  start  for  the  mountains  in  a  few  days,  to 
hunt  on  the  head-waters  of  Platte  and  Green 
River.  With  tliis  man  he  resolved  to  start,  and, 
having  still  some  hundred  dollars  in  cash,  he  im- 
mediately set  about  equipping  himself  for  the  ex- 
pedition. To  effect  this,  he  first  of  all  visited  the 
gun-store  of  Hawken,  whose  rifles  are  renowned  in 
the  mountains,  and  exchanged  his  own  piece,  which 
was  of  very  small  bore,  for  a  regular  mountain 
rifle.  This  was  of  very  heavy  metal,  carrying 
about  thirty-two  balls  to  the  pound,  stocked  to 
the  muzzle,  and  mounted  with  brass ;  its  only  orna- 
ment being  a  buffalo  bull,  looking  exceedingly 
ferocious,  which  was  not  very  artistically  engraved 
upon  the  trap  in  the  stock.  Here,  too,  he  laid  in 
a  few  pounds  of  powder  and  lead,  and  all  the 
necessaries  for  a  long  hunt. 

His  next  visit  was  to  a  smith's  store,  which 
smith  was  black  by  trade  and  black  by  nature, 
for  he  was  a  nigger,  and,  moreover,  celebrated  as 
being  the  best  maker  of  beaver-traps  in  St.  Louis ; 
and  of  him  he  purchased  six  new  traps,  paying 
for  the  same  twenty  dollars  —  procuring,  at  the 
same  time,  an  old  trap-sack  made  of  stout  buffalo- 
skin  in  which  to  carry  them. 

We  next  find  La  Bonte  and  his  companion  — 
one  Luke,  better  known  as  Gouge-Eye,  one  of  his 
eyes  having  been  "  gouged  "  in  a  mountain  fray 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  101 

—  at  Independence,  a  little  town  situated  on  the 
Missouri,  several  hundred  miles  above  St.  Louis, 
and  within  a  short  distance  of  the  Indian  frontier. 
Independence  may  be  termed  the  prairie  port 
of  the  western  country.  Here  the  caravans  des- 
tined for  Santa  Fe,  and  the  interior  of  Mexico, 
assemble  to  complete  their  necessary  equipment. 
Mules  and  oxen  are  purchased,  teamsters  hired, 
and  all  stores  and  outfit  laid  in  here  for  the  long 
journey  over  the  wide  expanse  of  prairie  ocean. 
Here,  too,  the  Indian  traders  and  the  Rocky- 
Mountain  trappers  rendezvous,  collecting  in  suffi- 
cient force  to  insure  their  safe  passage  through 
the  Indian  country.  At  the  seasons  of  departure 
and  arrival  of  these  bands,  the  little  town  pre- 
sents a  lively  scene  of  bustle  and  confusion.  The 
wild  and  dissipated  mountaineers  get  rid  of  their 
last  dollars  in  furious  orgies,  treating  all  comers 
to  galore  of  drink,  and  pledging  each  other,  in 
horns  of  potent  whisky,  to  successful  hunts  and 
*'  heaps  of  beaver."  When  every  cent  has  dis- 
appeared from  their  pouches,  the  free  trapper 
often  makes  away  with  rifle,  traps,  and  animals, 
to  gratify  his  "  dry  "  (for  your  mountaineer  is 
never  "thirsty");  and  then,  "boss  and  beaver" 
gone,  is  necessitated  to  hire  himself  to  one  of  the 
leaders  of  big  bands,  and  hypothecate  his  serv- 
ices for  an  equipment  of  traps  and  animals.  Thus 
La  Bonte  picked  up  three  excellent  mules  for  a 
mere  song,  with  their  accompanying  pack-saddles, 


102  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

apishamores*  and  lariats,  and  the  next  day,  with 
Luke,  "  put  out  "  for  Platte. 

As  they  passed  through  the  rendezvous,  which 
was  encamped  on  a  little  stream  beyond  the  town, 
even  our  young  Mississippian  was  struck  with  the 
novelty  of  the  scene.  Upwards  of  forty  huge 
wagons,  of  Conestoga  and  Pittsburgh  build,  and 
covered  with  snow-white  tilts,  were  ranged  in  a 
semicircle,  or  rather  a  horse-shoe  form,  on  the  flat 
open  prairie,  their  long  tongues  (poles)  pointing 
outwards ;  with  the  necessary  harness  for  four 
pairs  of  mules,  or  eight  yoke  of  oxen,  lying  on  the 
ground  beside  them,  spread  in  ready  order  for 
hitcliing  up.  Round  the  wagons  groups  of  team- 
sters, tall,  stalwart,  young  Missourians,  were  en- 
gaged in  busy  preparation  for  the  start,  greasing 
^he  wheels,  fitting  or  repairing  harness,  smoothing 
ox-bows  or  overhauling  their  own  moderate  kits 
or  "  possibles."  They  were  all  dressed  in  the  same 
fashion:  a  pair  of  homespun  pantaloons,  tucked 
into  thick  boots  reaching  nearly  to  the  knee,  and 
confined  round  the  waist  by  a  broad  leathern  belt, 
which  supported  a  strong  butcher-knife  in  a 
sheath.  A  coarse  checked  shirt  was  their  only 
other  covering,  with  a  fur  cap  on  the  head. 

Numerous  camp-fires  surrounded  the  wagons, 
and  near  them  lounged  wild-looking  mountaineers, 
easily  distinguished  from  the  "  greenhorn  "  team- 
sters by  their  dresses  of  buckskin  and  their 
*  Saddle-blanket  made  of  buffalo-calf  skin. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  103 

weather-beaten  faces.  Without  an  exception, 
these  were  under  the  influence  of  the  rosy  god ; 
and  one,  who  sat,  the  picture  of  misery,  at  a  fire 
by  himself  —  staring  into  the  blaze  with  vacant 
countenance,  his  long  matted  hair  hanging  in  un- 
kempt masses  over  his  face,  begrimed  with  the 
dirt  of  a  week,  and  pallid  with  the  effects  of  ar- 
dent drink  —  was  suffering  from  the  usual  con- 
sequences of  having  *'  kept  it  up "  beyond  the 
usual  point,  paying  the  penalty  in  a  fit  of  "  hor- 
rors " —  as  delirium  trcTnens  is  most  aptly  termed 
by  sailors  and  the  unprofessional. 

In  another  part,  the  merchants  of  the  caravan 
and  the  Indian  traders  superintended  the  lading 
of  the  wagons  or  mule-packs.  They  were  dressed 
in  civilized  attire,  and  some  were  even  bedizened  in 
St.  Louis  or  eastern  city  dandyism,  to  the  infinite 
disgust  of  the  mountain  men,  who  look  upon  a 
"  bourge-way "  (bourgeois)  with  most  undis- 
guised contempt,  despising  the  very  simplest 
forms  of  civilization.  The  picturesque  appear- 
ance of  the  encampment  was  not  a  little  heightened 
by  the  addition  of  several  Indians  from  the  neigh- 
boring Shawnee  settlement,  who,  mounted  on  their 
small  active  horses,  on  which  they  reclined  rather 
than  sat  in  negligent  attitudes,  quietly  looked  on 
at  the  novel  scene,  indifferent  to  the  chaff  in  which 
the  thoughtless  teamsters  indulged  at  their  ex- 
pense. Numbers  of  mules  and  horses  were  picketed 
at  hand,  whilst  a  large  herd  of  noble  oxen  were 


104  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

being  driven  towards  the  camp  —  the  wo-ha  of 
the  teamsters  sounding  far  and  near,  as  they  col- 
lected the  scattered  beasts  in  order  to  yoke  up. 

As  most  of  the  mountain-men  were  utterly  un- 
able to  move  from  camp,  Luke  and  La  Bonte,  with 
three  or  four  of  the  most  sober,  started  in  com- 
pany, intending  to  wait  on  Blue,  a  stream  which 
runs  into  the  Caw  or  Kanzas  River,  until  the  "  bal- 
ance "  of  the  band  came  up.  Mounting  their 
mules,  and  leading  the  loose  animals,  they  struck 
at  once  into  the  park-like  prairie,  and  were  speed- 
ily out  of  sight  of  civilization. 

It  was  the  latter  end  of  May,  towards  the  close 
of  the  season  of  heavy  rains,  which  in  early  spring 
render  the  climate  of  this  country  almost  intoler- 
able, at  the  same  time  that  they  fertilize  and  thaw 
the  soil,  so  long  bound  up  by  the  winter's  frosts. 
The  grass  was  everywhere  luxuriantly  green,  and 
gaudy  flowers  dotted  the  surface  of  the  prairie. 
This  term,  however,  should  hardly  be  applied  to 
the  beautiful  undulating  scenery  of  this  park-like 
country.  Unlike  the  flat  monotony  of  the  Grand 
Plains,  here  well-wooded  uplands,  clothed  with 
forest-trees  of  every  species,  and  picturesque 
dells,  through  which  run  clear  bubbling  streams 
belted  with  gay-blossomed  shrubs,  everywhere 
present  themselves ;  whilst  on  the  level  meadow- 
land,  topes  of  trees  with  spreading  foliage  aff'ord 
a  shelter  to  the  game  and  cattle,  and  well-tim- 
bered knolls  rise  at  intervals  from  the  plain. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  105 

Many  clear  streams  dashing  over  their  pebbly 
beds  intersect  the  country,  from  which,  in  the 
noonday's  heat,  the  red-deer  jump,  shaking  their 
wet  sides  as  the  noise  of  approaching  man  dis- 
turbs them ;  and  booming  grouse  rise  from  the  tall 
luxuriant  herbage  at  every  step.  Where  the  deep 
escarpments  of  the  river-banks  exhibit  the  section 
of  the  earth,  a  rich  alluvial  soil  of  surpassing  depth 
courts  the  cultivation  of  civilized  man ;  and  in 
every  feature  it  is  evident  that  here  nature  has 
worked  with  kindliest  and  most  bountiful  hand. 

For  hundreds  of  miles  along  the  western  or 
right  bank  of  the  Missouri  does  a  country  extend, 
with  which,  for  fertility  and  natural  resources, 
no  part  of  Europe  can  stand  comparison.  Suffi- 
ciently large  to  contain  an  enormous  population, 
it  has,  besides,  every  advantage  of  position,  and 
all  the  natural  capabilities  which  should  make  it 
the  happy  abode  of  civilized  man.  Through  this 
unpeopled  country  the  United  States  pours  her 
greedy  thousands,  to  seize  upon  the  barren  terri- 
tories of  her  feeble  neighbor. 

Camping  the  first  night  on  Black  Jack,  our 
mountaineers  here  cut  each  man  a  spare  hickory 
wiping-stick  for  his  rifle;  and  La  Bonte,  who  was 
the  only  greenhorn  of  the  party,  witnessed  a  sav- 
age ebullition  of  rage  on  the  part  of  one  of  his 
companions,  exhibiting  the  perfect  unrestraint 
which  these  men  impose  upon  their  passions,  and 
the  barbarous  anger  which  the  slightest  opposi- 


106  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

tlon  to  their  will  excites.  One  of  the  trappers,  on 
arriving  at  the  camping-place,  dismounted  from 
his  horse,  and,  after  divesting  it  of  the  saddle,  en- 
deavored to  lead  his  mule  by  the  rope  up  to  the 
spot  where  he  wished  to  deposit  his  pack.  Mule- 
like, however,  the  more  he  pulled  the  more  stub- 
bornly she  remained  in  her  tracks,  planting  her 
fore  legs  firmly,  and  stretching  out  her  neck  with 
provoking  obstinacy.  Truth  to  tell,  it  does  re- 
quire the  temper  of  a  thousand  Jobs  to  manage  a 
mule ;  and  in  no  case  does  the  willful  mulishness  of 
the  animal  stir  up  one's  choler  more  than  in  the 
very  trick  this  one  played,  and  which  is  a  daily 
occurrence.  After  tugging  ineffectually  for  sev- 
eral minutes,  winding  the  rope  round  his  body,, 
and  throwing  himself  suddenly  forward  with  all 
his  strength,  the  trapper  actually  foamed  with 
passion ;  and  although  he  might  have  subdued  the 
animal  at  once  by  fastening  the  rope  with  a  half- 
hitch  round  its  nose,  this,  with  an  obstinacy  equal 
to  that  of  the  mule  itself,  he  refused  to  attempt, 
preferring  to  vanquish  her  by  main  strength. 
Failing  so  to  do,  the  mountaineer,  with  a  volley 
of  blasphemous  imprecations,  suddenly  seized  his 
rifle,  and,  leveling  it  at  the  mule's  head,  shot  her 
dead. 

Passing  the  Wa-ka-rasha,*  a  well-timbered 
stream,  they  met  a  band  of  Osages  going  "  to 
buffalo."     These  Indians,  in   common  with   some 

*  Wakarusa.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  107 

tribes  of  the  Pawnees,  shave  the  head,  with  the 
exception  of  a  ridge  from  the  forehead  to  the 
center  of  the  scalp,  which  is  roached  or  hogged 
like  the  mane  of  a  mule,  and  stands  erect,  plas- 
tered with  unguents,  and  ornamented  with  feathers 
of  the  hawk  and  turkej^.  The  naked  scalp  is  often 
painted  in  mosaic  with  black  and  red,  the  face 
with  shining  vermilion.  This  band  were  all  naked 
to  the  breech-clout,  the  warmth  of  the  sun  hav- 
ing made  them  throw  their  dirty  blankets  from 
their  shoulders.  These  Indians  not  unfrequently 
levy  contributions  on  the  strangers  thc}'^  accident- 
ally meet ;  but  the^^  easily  distinguish  the  deter- 
mined mountaineer  from  the  incautious  greenhorn, 
and  think  it  better  to  let  the  former  alone. 

Crossing  Vermilion,  the  trappers  arrived  on  the 
fifth  day  at  Blue,  where  they  encamped  in  the 
broad  timber  belting  the  creek,  and  there  awaited 
the  arrival  of  the  remainder  of  the  party. 

It  was  two  days  before  they  came  up ;  but  the 
following  day  they  started  for  the  mountains, 
fourteen  in  number,  striking  a  trail  which  follows 
the  Big  Blue  in  its  course  through  the  prairies, 
which,  as  they  advanced  to  the  westward,  gradually 
smoothed  away  into  a  vast  unbroken  expanse  of 
rolling  plain.  Herds  of  antelope  began  to  show 
themselves,  and  some  of  the  hunters,  leaving  the 
trail,  soon  returned  with  plenty  of  their  tender 
meat.  The  luxuriant  but  coarse  grass  they  had 
hitherto  seen  now  changed  into  the  nutritious  and 


108  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

curly  buffalo  grass,  and  their  animals  soon  im- 
proved in  appearance  on  the  excellent  pasture. 
In  a  few  days,  without  any  adventure,  they  struck 
the  Platte  River,  its  shallow  waters  (from  which 
it  derives  its  name)  spreading  over  a  wide  and 
sandy  bed,  numerous  sand-bars  obstructing  the 
sluggish  current,  nowhere  sufficiently  deep  to  wet 
the  forder's  knee. 

By  this  time,  but  few  antelope  having  been  seen, 
the  party  ran  entirely  out  of  meat;  and  one  whole 
day  and  part  of  another  having  passed  without 
so  much  as  a  stray  rabbit  presenting  itself,  not 
a  few  objurgations  on  the  buffalo  grumbled  from 
the  lips  of  the  hunters,  who  expected  ere  this  to 
have  reached  the  land  of  plenty.  La  Bonte  killed 
a  fine  deer,  however,  in  the  river  bottom,  after  they 
had  encamped,  not  one  particle  of  which  remained 
after  supper  that  night,  but  which  hardly  took  the 
rough  edge  off  their  keen  appetites.  Although 
already  in  the  buffalo  range,  no  traces  of  these 
animals  had  yet  been  seen ;  and  as  the  country 
afforded  but  little  game,  and  the  party  did  not 
care  to  halt  and  lose  time  in  hunting  for  it,  they 
moved  along  hungry  and  sulky,  the  theme  of  con- 
versation being  the  well-remembered  merits  of 
good  buffalo-meat, —  of  fat  fleece,  hump-rib,  and 
tenderloin ;  of  delicious  "  boudins,"  and  marrow- 
bones too  good  to  think  of.  La  Bonte  had  never 
seen  the  lordly  animal,  and  consequently  but  half 
believed  the  accounts  of  the  mountaineers,  Avho  de- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  109 

scribed  their  countless  bands  as  covering  the 
prairie  far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  and  requiring 
days  of  travel  to  pass  through ;  but  the  visions 
of  such  dainty  and  abundant  feeding  as  they  des- 
canted on  set  his  mouth  watering,  and  danced 
before  his  eyes  as  he  slept  supperless,  night  after 
night,  on  the  banks  of  the  hungry  Platte. 

One  morning  he  had  packed  his  animals  before 
the  rest,  and  was  riding  a  mile  in  advance  of  the 
party,  when  he  s.aw  on  one  side  the  trail,  looming 
in  the  refracted  glare  which  mirages  the  plains, 
three  large  dark  objects  without  shape  or  form, 
which  rose  and  fell  in  the  exaggerated  light  like 
ships  at  sea.  Doubting  what  it  could  be,  he  ap- 
proached the  strange  objects;  and  as  the  refrac- 
tion disappeared  before  him,  the  dark  masses  as- 
sumed a  more  distinct  form,  and  clearly  moved 
with  life.  A  little  nearer,  and  he  made  them  out: 
they  were  buffalo.  Thinking  to  distinguish  him- 
self, the  greenhorn  dismounted  from  his  mule  and 
quickly  hobbled  her,  throwing  his  lasso  on  the 
ground  to  trail  behind  when  he  wished  to  catch 
her.  Then,  rifle  in  hand,  he  approached  the  huge 
animals,  and,  being  a  good  hunter,  knew  well  to 
take  advantage  of  the  inequalities  of  the  ground 
and  face  the  wind ;  by  which  means  he  crawled  at 
length  to  within  forty  yards  of  the  buffalo,  which 
quietly  cropped  the  grass,  unconscious  of  danger. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  gazed  upon  the  noble 
beast  he  had  so  often  heard  of  and  longed  to  see. 


110  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

With  coal-black  beard  sweeping  the  ground  as  he 
fed,  an  enormous  bull  was  in  advance  of  the  others, 
his  wild  brilliant  eyes  peering  from  an  immense 
mass  of  shaggy  hair,  which  covered  his  neck  and 
shoulder.  From  this  point  his  skin  was  smooth 
as  one's  hand,  a  sleek  and  shining  dun,  and  his 
ribs  were  well  covered  with  shaking  flesh.  Whilst 
leisurely  cropping  the  short  curly  grass,  he  oc- 
casionally lifted  his  tail  into  the  air,  and  stamped 
his  foot  as  a  fly  or  mosquito  annoyed  him  —  flap- 
ping the  intruder  with  his  tail,  or  snatching  at 
the  itching  part  with  his  ponderous  head. 

When  La  Bonte  had  sufficiently  admired  the 
buffalo,  he  lifted  his  rifle,  and,  taking  steady  aim, 
and  certain  of  his  mark,  pulled  the  trigger,  ex- 
pecting to  see  the  huge  beast  fall  over  at  the  re- 
port. W^hat  was  liis  surprise  and  consternation, 
however,  to  see  the  animal  only  flinch  when  the  ball 
struck  him,  and  then  gaUop  off,  followed  by  the 
others,  apparently  unhurt.  As  is  generally  the 
case  with  greenhorns,  he  had  fired  too  high,  igno- 
rant that  the  only  certain  spot  to  strike  a  buffalo 
is  but  a  few  inches  above  the  brisket,  and  that  a 
higher  shot  is  rarely  fatal.  When  he  rose  from 
the  ground  he  saw  all  tlie  party  halting  in  full 
view  of  his  discomfiture;  and  when  he  joined  them, 
loud  were  the  laughs,  and  deep  the  regrets  of  the 
hungry  at  his  first  attempt. 

However,  they  now  knew  that  they  were  in  the 
country  of  meat ;  and  a  few  miles  farther,  another 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  111 

band  of  stragglers  presenting  themselves,  three  of 
the  hunters  went  in  pursuit,  La  Bonte  taking  a 
mule  to  pack  in  the  meat.  He  soon  saw  them 
crawling  towards  the  band,  and  shortly  two  puffs 
of  smoke,  and  the  sharp  cracks  of  their  rifles, 
showed  that  they  had  got  within  shot;  and  when 
he  rode  up,  two  fine  buffaloes  were  stretched  upon 
the  ground.  Now,  for  the  first  time,  he  was  in- 
itiated in  the  mysteries  of  butchering.  He 
watched  the  hunters  as  they  turned  the  carcass 
on  the  belly,  stretching  out  the  legs  to  support 
it  on  each  side.  A  transverse  cut  was  then  made 
at  the  nape  of  the  neck,  and,  gathering  the  long 
hair  of  the  boss  in  one  hand,  the  skin  was  separated 
from  the  shoulder.  It  was  then  laid  open  from 
this  point  to  the  tail,  along  the  spine,  and  then, 
freed  from  the  sides  and  pulled  down  to  the  bris- 
ket, but  still  attached  to  it,  was  stretched  upon 
the  ground  to  receive  the  dissected  portions. 
Then  the  shoulder  was  severed,  the  fleece  removed 
from  along  the  backbone,  and  the  hump-ribs  cut 
off  with  a  tomahawk.  All  this  was  placed  upon 
the  skin ;  and  after  the  "  boudins  "  had  been  with- 
drawn from  the  stomach,  and  the  tongue  —  a 
great  dainty  —  taken  from  the  head,  the  meat  was 
packed  upon  the  mule,  and  the  whole  party  hurried 
to  camp  rejoicing. 

There  was  merry-making  in  the  camp  that  night, 
and  the  way  they  indulged  their  appetites  —  or,  in 
their  own  language,  "  throwed  "  the  meat  "  cold  '* 


112  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

—  would  have  made  the  heart  of  a  dyspeptic  leap 
for  joy  or  burst  with  envy.  Far  into  the  "  still 
watches  of  the  tranquil  night,"  the  fat-clad  "  de- 
pouille "  saw  its  fleshy  mass  grow  small  by  de- 
grees and  beautifully  less  before  the  trenchant 
blades  of  the  hungry  mountaineers ;  appetizing 
yards  of  well-browned  "  boudin "  slipped  glibly 
down  their  throats ;  rib  after  rib  of  tender  hump 
was  picked  and  flung  to  the  wolves ;  and  when 
human  nature,  with  helpless  gratitude,  and  con- 
fident that  nothing  of  superexcellent  comestibility 
remained,  was  lazily  wiping  the  greasy  knife  that 
had  done  such  good  service,  a  skillful  hunter  was 
seen  to  chuckle  to  himself  as  he  raked  the  deep 
ashes  of  the  fire,  and  drew  therefrom  a  pair  of 
tongues  so  admirably  baked,  so  soft,  so  sweet,  and 
of  such  exquisite  flavor,  that  a  veil  is  considerately 
drawn  over  the  effects  their  discussion  produced 
in  the  mind  of  our  greenhorn  La  Bonte,  and  the 
raptures  they  excited  in  the  bosom  of  that,  as  yet, 
most  ignorant  mountaineer.  Still,  as  he  ate  he 
wondered,  and  wondering  admired,  that  nature, 
in  giving  him  such  profound  gastronomic  powers, 
and  such  transcendent  capabilities  of  digestion, 
had  yet  bountifully  provided  an  edible  so  peculiarly 
adapted  to  his  ostrich-like  appetite,  that  after 
consuming  nearly  his  own  weight  in  rich  and  fat 
buffalo-meat,  he  felt  as  easy  and  as  little  incom- 
moded as  if  he  had  lightly  supped  on  strawberries 
and  cream. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  118 

Sweet  was  the  digestive  pipe  after  such  a  feast ; 
soft  was  the  sleep  and  deep,  which  sealed  the  eyes 
of  the  contented  trappers  that  night.  It  felt  like 
the  old  thing,  they  said,  to  be  once  more  amongst 
the  "  meat  " ;  and,  as  they  were  drawing  near  the 
dangerous  portion  of  the  trail,  they  felt  at  home; 
although  they  now  could  never  be  confident,  when 
they  lay  down  at  night  upon  their  bufFalo-robes, 
of  awaking  again  in  this  life,  knowing,  as  they 
did,  full  well,  that  savage  men  lurked  near,  thirst- 
ing for  their  blood. 

However,  no  enemies  showed  themselves  as  yet, 
and  they  proceeded  quietly  up  the  river,  vast  herds 
of  buffaloes  darkening  the  plains  around  them, 
affording  them  more  than  abundance  of  the  choic- 
est meat ;  but,  to  their  credit  be  it  spoken,  no 
more  was  killed  than  was  absolutely  required  — 
unlike  the  cruel  slaughter  made  by  most  of  the 
white  travelers  across  the  plains,  who  wantonly 
destroy  these  noble  animals,  not  even  for  the  ex- 
citement of  sport,  but  in  cold-blooded  and  insane 
butchery.  La  Bonte  had  practice  enough  to  per- 
fect him  in  the  art,  and,  before  the  buffalo 
range  was  passed,  he  was  ranked  as  a  first-rate 
hunter. 

One  evening  he  had  left  the  camp  for  meat,  and 
was  approaching  a  band  of  cows  for  that  pur- 
pose, crawling  towards  them  along  the  bed  of 
a  dry  hollow  in  the  prairie,  when  he  observed 
them  suddenly  jump  towards  him,  and  immediately 


114>  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

afterwards  a  score  of  mounted  Indians  appeared, 
whom,  by  tlicir  dress,  he  at  once  knew  to  be  Paw- 
nees and  enemies.  Thinking  the}^  might  not  dis- 
cover him,  he  crouched  down  in  the  ravine ;  but  a 
lioise  behind  caused  him  to  turn  his  head,  and  he 
Baw  some  five  or  six  advancing  up  the  bed  of  the 
dry  creek,  whilst  several  more  were  riding  on  the 
bluffs.  The  cunning  savages  had  cut  off  his  re- 
treat to  his  mule,  which  he  saw  in  the  possession 
of  one  of  them.  His  presence  of  mind,  however, 
did  not  desert  him ;  and  seeing  at  once  that  to  re- 
main where  he  was  would  be  like  being  caught  in 
a  trap  (as  the  Indians  could  advance  to  the  edge 
of  the  bluff  and  shoot  him  from  above),  he  made 
for  the  open  prairie,  determined  at  least  to  sell 
his  scalp  dearly,  and  make  a  good  fight.  With  a 
yell  the  Indians  charged,  but  halted  when  they 
saw  the  sturdy  trapper  deliberately  kneel,  and, 
resting  his  rifle  on  the  wiping-stick,  take  a  steady 
aim  as  they  advanced.  Full  well  the  Pawnees 
know,  to  their  cost,  that  a  mountaineer  seldom 
pulls  his  trigger  without  sending  a  bullet  to  the 
mark ;  and,  certain  that  one  at  least  must  fall, 
they  hesitated  to  make  the  onslaught.  Steadily 
the  white  retreated  with  his  face  to  the  foe,  bring- 
ing the  rifle  to  his  shoulder  the  instant  that  one 
advanced  within  shot,  the  Indians  galloping  round, 
firing  the  few  guns  they  had  amongst  them  at  long 
distances,  but  without  effect.  One  young  brave, 
more  daring  than  the  rest,  rode  out  of  the  crowd, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  115 

and  dashed  at  the  hunter,  throwing  himself,  as 
he  passed  within  a  ievr  yards,  from  the  saddle, 
and  hanging  over  the  opposite  side  of  his  horse, 
thus  presenting  no  other  mark  than  his  left  foot. 
As  he  crossed  La  Bonte,  he  discharged  his  bow 
from  under  his  horse's  neck,  and  with  such  good 
aim,  that  the  arrow,  whizzing  through  the  air, 
struck  the  stock  of  the  hunter's  rifle,  which  was 
at  his  shoulder,  and,  glancing  off,  pierced  his  arm, 
inflicting,  luckily,  but  a  slight  wound.  Again  the 
Indian  turned  in  his  course,  the  others  encourag- 
ing him  with  loud  war-whoops,  and  once  more, 
passing  at  still  less  distance,  he  drew  his  arrow 
to  the  head.  This  time,  however,  the  eagle  eye 
of  the  white  detected  the  action,  and  suddenly  ris- 
ing from  his  knee  as  the  Indian  approached  (hang- 
ing by  his  foot  alone  over  the  opposite  side  of  the 
horse),  he  jumped  towards  the  animal  with  out- 
stretched arms  and  a  loud  yell,  causing  it  to  start 
suddenly,  and  swerve  from  its  course.  The  In- 
dian lost  his  foot-hold,  and,  after  a  fruitless  strug- 
gle to  regain  his  position,  fell  to  the  ground ;  but 
instantly  rose  upon  his  feet  and  gallantly  con- 
fronted the  mountaineer,  striking  his  hand  upon 
his  brawny  chest  and  shouting  a  loud  whoop  of 
defiance.  In  another  instant  the  rifle  of  La  Bonte 
had  poured  forth  its  contents ;  and  the  brave  sav- 
age, springing  into  the  air,  fell  dead  to  the  ground, 
just  as  the  other  trappers,  who  had  heard  the  fir- 
ing, galloped  up  to  the  spot.     At  sight  of  them 


116  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

the  Pawnees,  with  yells  of  disappointed  vengeance, 
hastily  retreated. 

That  night  La  Bont6  first  lifted  hair! 

A  few  days  after,  the  mountaineers  reached  the 
point  where  the  Platte  divides  into  two  great  forks : 
the  northern  one,  stretching  to  the  north-west, 
skirts  the  eastern  base  of  the  Black  Hills,  and, 
sweeping  round  to  the  south,  rises  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  mountain  valley  called  the  New  Park,  re- 
ceiving the  Laramie,  Medicine  Bow,  and  Sweet- 
water creeks.  The  other,  or  South  Fork,  strikes 
towards  the  mountains  in  a  south-westerly  direc- 
tion, hugging  the  base  of  the  main  chain  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains ;  and,  fed  by  several  small 
creeks,  rises  in  the  uplands  of  the  Bayou  Salade, 
near  which  is  also  the  source  of  the  Arkansa.  To 
the  forks  of  the  Platte  the  valley  of  that  river 
extends  from  three  to  five  miles  on  each  side,  in- 
closed by  steep  sandy  bluffs,  from  the  summits  of 
which  the  prairies  stretch  away  in  broad  undulat- 
ing expanse  to  the  north  and  south.  The  bot- 
tom, as  it  is  termed,  is  but  thinly  covered  with 
timber,  the  cotton  woods  being  scattered  only  here 
and  there ;  but  some  of  the  islands  in  the  broad 
bed  of  the  stream  are  well  wooded,  leading  to  the 
inference  that  the  trees  on  the  banks  have  been 
felled  by  Indians  who  formerly  frequented  the 
neighborhood  of  this  river  as  a  chosen  hunting- 
ground.  As,  during  the  long  winters,  the  pasture 
in  the  vicinity  is  scarce  and  withered,  the  Indians 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  IIT 

feed  their  horses  on  the  bark  of  the  sweet  cotton 
wood,  upon  which  they  subsist,  and  even  fatten. 
Thus,  wherever  a  village  has  encamped,  the  trunks 
of  these  trees  strew  the  ground,  their  upper  limbs 
and  smaller  branches  peeled  of  their  bark,  and 
looking  as  white  and  smooth  as  if  scraped  with  a 
knife. 

On  the  forks,  however,  the  timber  is  heavier  and 
of  greater  variety,  some  of  the  creeks  being  well 
wooded  with  ash  and  cherry,  which  break  the  mo- 
notony of  the   everlasting  cotton  wood. 

Dense  masses  of  buffalo  still  continued  to 
darken  the  plains,  and  numerous  bands  of  wolves 
hovered  round  the  outskirts  of  the  vast  herds, 
singling  out  the  sick  and  wounded  animals,  and 
preying  upon  such  calves  as  the  rifles  and  arrows 
of  the  hunters  had  bereaved  of  their  mothers. 
The  white  wolf  is  the  invariable  attendant  upon 
the  buffalo ;  and  when  one  of  these  persevering 
animals  is  seen,  it  is  a  certain  sign  that  buffalo 
are  not  far  distant.  Besides  the  buffalo  wolf, 
there  are  four  distinct  varieties  common  to  the 
plains,  and  all  more  or  less  attendant  upon  the 
buffalo.  These  are,  the  black,  the  gray,  the 
brown,  and,  last  and  least,  the  coyote  or  cayeute 
of  the  mountaineers,  the  wachunkamSnet,  or 
"  medicine  wolf  "  of  the  Indians,  who  hold  the  lat- 
ter animal  in  reverential  awe.  This  little  wolf, 
whose  fur  is  of  great  thickness  and  beauty,  is  of 
diminutive  size,  but  wonderfully  sagacious,  making 


118  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

up  by  cunning  what  it  wants  in  physical  strength. 
In  bands  of  from  three  to  thirty  they  not  unfre- 
quently  station  themselves  along  the  "  runs  "  of 
the  deer  and  the  antelope,  extending  their  line  for 
many  miles ;  and  the  quarry  being  started,  each 
wolf  follows  in  pursuit  until  tired,  when  it  relin- 
quishes the  chase  to  another  relay,  following 
slowly  after  until  the  animal  is  fairly  run  down, 
when  all  hurry  to  the  spot  and  speedily  consume 
the  carcass.  The  cayeute,  however,  is  often  made 
a  tool  of  by  his  larger  brethren,  unless,  indeed, 
he  acts  from  motives  of  spontaneous  charity. 
When  a  hunter  has  slaughtered  game,  and  is  in 
the  act  of  butchering  it,  these  little  wolves  sit 
patiently  at  a  short  distance  from  the  scene  of 
operations,  while  at  a  more  respectful  one  the 
larger  wolves  (the  white  or  gray)  lope  hungrily 
around,  licking  their  chops  in  hungry  expectation. 
Not  unfrequently  the  hunter  throws  a  piece  of 
meat  towards  the  smaller  one,  who  seizes  it  im- 
mediately, and  runs  off  with  the  morsel  in  his 
mouth.  Before  he  gets  many  yards  witli  his  prize, 
the  large  wolf  pounces  with  a  growl  upon  him, 
and  the  cayeute,  dropping  the  meat,  returns  to 
his  former  position,  and  will  continue  his  char- 
itable act  as  long  as  the  hunter  pleases  to  supply 
him. 

Wolves  are  so  common  on  the  plains  and  in  the 
mountains,  that  the  hunter  never  cares  to  throw 
away   a    charge   of   ammunition   upon   them,    al- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  il9 

though  the  ravenous  animals  are  a  constant  source 
of  annoyance  to  him,  creeping  to  the  camp-firt 
at  night,  and  gnawing  his  saddles  and  apisha- 
mores,  eating  the  skin  ropes  which  secure  the  horses 
and  mules  to  their  pickets,  and  even  their  very 
hobbles,  and  not  unfrequentlj  killing  or  entirely 
disabling  the  animals  themselves. 

Round  the  camp,  during  the  night,  the  cayeute 
keeps  unremitting  watch,  and  the  traveler  not  un- 
frequently  starts  from  liis  bed  with  affright,  as 
the  mournful  and  unearthly  chiding  of  the  wolf 
breaks  suddenly  upon  his  ear:  the  long-drawn 
howl  being  taken  up  by  others  of  the  band,  until 
it  dies  away  in  the  distance,  or  some  straggler 
passing  within  hearing  answers  to  the  note,  and 
howls  as  he  lopes  away. 

Our  party  crossed  the  south  fork  about  ten 
miles  from  its  juncture  with  the  main  stream,  and 
then,  passing  the  prairie,  struck  the  north  fork 
a  day's  travel  from  the  other.  At  the  mouth  of 
an  ash-timbered  creek  they  came  upon  Indian 
"  sign,"  and  as  now  they  were  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
treacherous  Sioux,  they  moved  along  with  addi- 
tional caution.  Frapp  and  Gonneville,  two  expe- 
rienced mountaineers,  always  heading  the  ad- 
vance. 

About  noon  they  had  crossed  over  to  the  left 
bank  of  the  fork,  intending  to  camp  on  a  large 
creek  where  some  fresh  beaver  sign  had  attracted 
the  attention  of  some  of  the  trappers ;  and  as,  on 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

firther  examination,  it  appeared  that  two  or  three 
lodges  of  that  animal  were  not  far  distant,  it  was 
/determined  to  remain  here  a  day  or  two,  and  set 
their  traps. 

Gonneville,  old  Luke,  and  La  Bonte,  had  started 
up  the  creek,  and  were  carefully  examining  the 
banks  for  sign,  when  the  former,  who  was  in  front, 
suddenly  paused,  and,  looking  intently  up  the 
stream,  held  up  his  hand  to  his  companions  to 
signal  them  to  stop. 

Luke  and  La  Bonte  both  followed  the  direction 
of  the  trapper's  intent  and  fixed  gaze.  The 
former  uttered  in  a  suppressed  tone  the  expressive 
exclamation,  Wagh !  —  the  latter  saw  nothing  but 
a  wood-duck  swimming  swiftly  down  the  stream, 
followed  by  her  downy  progeny. 

Gonneville  turned  his  head,  and,  extending  his 
arm  twice  with  a  forward  motion  up  the  creek, 
whispered,  "  Les  sauvages." 

"  Injuns,  sure,  and  Sioux  at  that,"  answered 
Luke. 

Still  La  Bonte  looked,  but  nothing  met  his  view 
but  the  duck  with  her  brood,  now  rapidly  ap- 
proaching; and  as  he  gazed,  the  bird  suddenly 
took  wing,  and,  flapping  on  the  water,  flew  a  short 
distance  down  the  stream  and  once  more  settled 
on  it. 

"Injuns?"  he  asked;  "where  are  they.''" 

"  Whar.?  "  repeated  old  Luke,  striking  the  flint 
of  his  rifle,  and  opening  the  pan  to  examine  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  121 

(priming.  "  What  brings  a  duck  a-streakin'  it 
down  stream  if  humans  ain't  behint  her?  and  who's 
thar  in  these  diggins  but  Injuns,  and  the  worst 
kind?  and  we'd  better  push  to  camp,  I'm  think- 
ing, if  we  mean  to  save  our  hair." 

"  Sign "  sufficient,  indeed,  it  was  to  all  the 
trappers,  who,  on  being  apprised  of  it,  instantly 
drove  in  their  animals  and  picketed  them ;  and 
hardly  had  they  done  so  when  a  band  of  Indians 
made  their  appearance  on  the  banks  of  the  creek, 
from  whence  they  galloped  to  the  bluff  which  over- 
looked the  camp  at  the  distance  of  about  six  hun- 
dred yards ;  and  crowning  this  in  number  some 
forty  or  more,  commenced  brandishing  their  spears 
and  guns,  and  whooping  loud  yells  of  defiance. 
The  trappers  had  formed  a  little  breastwork  of 
their  packs,  forming  a  semicircle,  the  chord  of 
which  was  made  by  the  animals  standing  in  a  line, 
side  by  side,  closely  picketed  and  hobbled.  Behind 
this  defense  stood  the  mountaineers,  rifle  in  hand, 
and  silent  and  determined.  The  Indians  presently 
descended  the  bluff  on  foot,  leaving  their  animals 
in  charge  of  a  few  of  the  party,  and,  scattering, 
advanced,  under  cover  of  the  sage-bushes  which 
dotted  the  bottom,  to  about  two  hundred  yards 
of  the  whites.  Then  a  chief  advanced  before  the 
rest,  and  made  the  sign  for  a  talk  with  the  Long- 
knives,  which  led  to  a  consultation  amongst  the 
latter  as  to  the  policy  of  acceding  to  it.  They 
were  in  doubts  as  to  the  nation  these  Indians  be- 


m  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

longed  to,  some  bands  of  the  Sioux  being  friendly, 
and  others  bitterly  hostile,  to  the  whites. 

Gonneville,  who  spoke  the  Sioux  language,  and 
was  well  acquainted  with  the  nation,  affirmed  they 
belonged  to  a  band  called  the  Yanka-taus,*  well 
known  to  be  the  most  evil-disposed  of  that  treach- 
erous nation;  another  of  the  party  maintained 
they  were  Brules,  and  that  the  chief  advancing 
towards  them  was  the  well-known  Tah-sha-tunga 
or  Bull  Tail,  a  most  friendly  chief  of  that  tribe. 
The  majority,  however,  trusted  to  Gonneville,  and 
he  volunteered  to  go  out  to  meet  the  Indian,  and 
hear  what  he  had  to  say.  Divesting  himself  of  all 
arms  save  his  butcher-knife,  he  advanced  towards 
the  savage,  who  awaited  his  approach  enveloped 
in  the  folds  of  his  blanket.  At  a  glance  he  knew 
him  to  be  a  Yanka-tau,  from  the  peculiar  make 
of  his  moccasins,  and  the  way  in  which  his  face  was 
daubed  with  paint. 

"  Howgh !  "  exclaimed  both  as  they  met ;  and, 
after  a  silence  of  a  few  moments,  the  Indian  spoke, 
asking  —  "  Why  the  Long-knives  hid  behind  their 
packs  when  his  band  approached?  Were  they 
afraid,  or  were  they  preparing  a  dog-feast  to  en- 
tertain their  friends?  The  whites  were  passing 
through  his  country,  burning  his  wood,  drinking 
his  water,  and  killing  his  game;  but  he  knew  they 
had  now  come  to  pay  for  the  mischief  they  had 
done,   and  that   the  mules   and  horses   they   had 

*Yanktons.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  1^ 

brought  with  them  were  intended  as  a  present  to 
their  red  friends. 

"  He  was  Mah-to-ga-shane,"  he  said,  "  the  Brave 
Bear:  his  tongue  was  short,  but  his  arm  long; 
and  he  loved  rather  to  speak  with  his  bow  and  his 
lance  than  witli  the  weapon  of  a  squaw.  He  had 
said  it :  the  Long-knives  had  horses  with  them  and 
mules ;  and  these  were  for  him,  he  knew,  and  for 
his  braves.  Let  the  White-face  go  back  to  his 
people  and  return  with  the  animals,  or  he,  the 
Brave  Bear,  would  have  to  come  and  take  them ; 
and  his  young  men  would  get  mad  and  would  feel 
blood  in  their  eyes ;  and  then  he  would  have  no 
power  over  them ;  and  the  whites  would  have  to 
go  under." 

The  trapper  answered  Portly.  "  The  Long- 
knives,"  he  said,  "  had  brought  the  horses  for 
themselves  —  their  hearts  were  big,  but  not 
towards  the  Yanka-taus ;  and  if  they  had  to  give 
up  their  animals,  it  would  be  to  men  and  not 
squaics.  They  were  not  *  wah-keitcha  '  *  (French 
engages),  but  Long-knives;  and,  however  short 
were  the  tongues  of  the  Yanka-taus,  theirs  were 
still  shorter,  and  their  rifles  longer.  The  Yanka- 
taus  were  dogs  and  squaws,  and  the  Long-knives 
spat  upon  them." 

*  The  French  Canadians  are  called  wah-keitcha  — "  bad 
medicine  " —  by  the  Indians,  who  account  them  treacherous 
and  vindictive,  and  at  the  same  time  less  daring  than  the 
American  hunters. 


124  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Saying  this,  the  trapper  turned  his  back  and 
rejoined  his  companions ;  whilst  the  Indian  slowly 
proceeded  to  his  people,  who,  on  learning  the  con- 
temptuous way  in  which  their  threats  had  been 
treated,  testified  their  anger  with  loud  yells ;  and, 
seeking  whatever  cover  was  afforded,  commenced 
a  scattering  volley  upon  the  camp  of  the  mountain- 
eers. The  latter  reserved  their  fire,  treating  with 
cool  indifference  the  balls  which  began  to  rattle 
about  them ;  but  as  the  Indians,  emboldened  by  this 
apparent  inaction,  rushed  for  a  closer  position, 
and  exposed  their  bodies  within  a  long  range,  half- 
a-dozen  rifles  rang  from  the  assailed,  and  two  In- 
dians fell  dead,  one  or  two  more  being  wounded. 
As  yet,  not  one  of  the  whites  had  been  touched, 
but  several  of  the  animals  had  received  wounds 
from  the  enemy's  fire  of  balls  and  arrows.  Indeed, 
the  Indians  remained  at  too  great  a  distance  to 
render  the  volleys  from  their  crazy  fusees  anything 
like  effectual,  and  had  to  raise  their  pieces  con- 
siderably to  make  their  bullets  reach  as  far  as 
the  camp.  After  three  of  their  band  had  been 
killed  outright,  and  many  more  wounded,  their 
fire  began  to  slacken,  and  they  drew  off  to  a 
greater  distance,  evidently  resolved  to  beat  a  re- 
treat. Retiring  to  the  bluff,  they  discharged  their 
pieces  in  a  last  volley,  mounted  their  horses  and 
galloped  off,  carrying  their  wounded  v/ith  them. 
This  last  volley,  however,  although  intended  as  a 
mere  bravado,  unfortunately  proved  fatal  to  one 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  125 

of  the  whites.  Gonneville,  at  the  moment,  was 
standing  on  a  pack,  to  get  an  uninterrupted  sight 
for  a  last  shot,  when  one  of  the  random  bullets 
struck  him  in  the  breast.  La  Bonte  caught  him 
in  his  arms  as  he  was  about  to  fall,  and  laying  the 
wounded  trapper  gently  on  the  ground,  stripped 
him  of  his  buckskin  hunting-frock,  to  examine  the 
wound.  A  glance  was  sufficient  to  convince  his 
companions  that  the  blow  was  mortal.  The  ball 
had  passed  through  the  lungs ;  and  in  a  few  mo- 
ments the  throat  of  the  wounded  man  swelled  and 
turned  to  a  livid  blue  color,  as  the  choking  blood 
ascended.  Only  a  few  drops  of  purple  blood 
trickled  from  the  wound  —  a  fatal  sign  —  and  the 
eyes  of  the  mountaineer  were  already  glazing  with 
death's  icy  touch.  His  hand  still  grasped  the 
barrel  of  his  rifle,  which  had  done  good  service  in 
the  fray.  Anon  he  essayed  to  speak,  but,  choked 
with  blood,  only  a  few  inarticulate  words  reached 
the  ears  of  his  companions  as  they  bent  over 
him. 

"  Rubbed  —  out  —  at  —  last,"  they  heard  him 
say,  the  words  gurgling  in  his  blood-filled  throat ; 
and  opening  his  eyes  once  more,  and  turning  them 
upwards  for  a  last  look  at  the  bright  sun,  the 
trapper  turned  gently  on  his  side  and  breathed  his 
last  sigh. 

With  no  other  tools  than  their  scalp-knives,  the 
hunters  dug  a  grave  on  the  banks  of  the  creek  ;  and 
whilst   some  were   engaged  in   this   work,    others 


126  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

sought  the  bodies  of  the  Indians  they  liad  slain  in 
the  attack,  and  presently  returned  with  three  reek- 
ing scalps,  the  trophies  of  the  fight.  The  body 
of  the  mountaineer  was  wrapped  in  a  buffalo-robe, 
the  scalps  being  placed  on  his  breast,  and  the  dead 
man  was  then  laid  in  the  shallow  grave,  and  quickly 
covered  —  without  a  word  of  prayer  or  sigh  of 
grief;  for  however  much  his  companions  may  have 
felt,  not  a  word  escaped  them.  The  bitten  lip  and 
frowning  brow  told  of  anger  rather  than  of  sorrow, 
as  they  vowed  —  what  they  thought  would  better 
please  the  spirit  of  the  dead  man  than  vain  regrets 
—  bloody  and  lasting  revenge. 

Tramping  down  the  earth  which  filled  the  grave, 
they  raised  upon  it  a  pile  of  heavy  stones ;  and 
packing  their  mules  once  more,  and  taking  a  last 
look  at  their  comrade's  lonely  resting-place,  they 
turned  their  backs  upon  the  stream,  which  has 
ever  since  been  known  as  Gonnevillc's  Creek. 

If  the  reader  casts  his  eye  over  any  of  the  recent 
maps  of  the  western  country  which  detail  the  fea- 
tures of  the  regions  embracing  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains and  the  vast  prairies  at  their  bases,  he  will 
not  fail  to  obsen'^e  that  many  of  the  creeks  or 
smaller  streams  which  feed  the  larger  rivers  —  as 
the  Missouri,  Platte,  and  Arkansa  —  are  called  by 
familiar  proper  names,  both  English  and  French. 
These  are  invariably  christened  after  some  unfor- 
tunate trapper  killed  there  in  Indian  fight,  or 
treacherously  slaughtered  by  the  lurking  savages, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  127 

while  engaged  in  trapping  beaver  on  the  stream. 
Thus  alone  is  the  memory  of  these  hardy  men  per- 
petuated, at  least  of  those  whose  fate  is  ascer- 
tained ;  for  many,  in  every  season,  never  return 
from  their  hunting  expeditions,  but  meet  a  sudden 
death  from  Indians,  or  a  more  lingering  fate  from 
accident  or  disease  in  some  lonely  gorge  of  the 
mountains,  where  no  footfall  save  their  own,  or 
the  heavy  tread  of  the  grizzly  bear,  disturbs  the 
unbroken  silence  of  the  awful  solitude.  Then,  as 
many  winters  pass  without  some  old  familiar  faces 
making  their  appearance  at  the  merry  rendezvous, 
their  long-protracted  absence  may  perhaps  elicit 
a  remark,  as  to  where  such  and  such  a  mountain 
worthy  can  have  betaken  himself;  to  which  the 
casual  rejoinder  of  "  Gone  under,  maybe,"  too 
often  gives  a  short  but  certain  answer. 

In  all  the  philosophy  of  hardened  hearts,  our 
hunters  turned  from  the  spot  where  the  un- 
mourned  trapper  met  his  death.  La  Bonte,  how- 
ever, not  yet  entirely  steeled  by  mountain  life  to 
a  perfect  indifference  to  human  feeling,  drew  his 
hard  hand  across  his  ej'e,  as  the  unbidden  tear 
rose  from  his  rough  but  kindly  heart.  He  could 
not  forget  so  soon  the  comrade  he  had  lost ;  the 
companion  in  the  hunt  or  over  the  cheerful  camp- 
fire  ;  the  narrator  of  many  a  tale  of  dangers  past 
—  of  sufferings  from  hunger,  cold,  thirst,  and  un- 
tended  wounds  —  of  Indian  perils,  and  other  vicis- 
situdes.     One     tear     dropped     from     the     young 


12«  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

hunter's  eye,  and  rolled  down  his  cheek  —  the  last 
for  many  a  long  year. 

In  the  forks  of  the  northern  branch  of  the 
Platte,  formed  by  the  junction  of  the  Laramie, 
they  found  a  big  village  of  the  Sioux  encamped 
near  the  station  of  one  of  the  fur  companies. 
Here  the  party  broke  up ;  many,  finding  the  alco- 
hol of  the  traders  an  impediment  to  their  further 
progress,  remained  some  time  in  the  vicinity,  while 
La  Bonte,  Luke,  and  a  trapper  named  Marcelline, 
started  in  a  few  days  to  the  mountains,  to  trap  on 
Sweetwater  and  Medicine  Bow.  They  had  lei- 
sure, however,  to  observe  all  the  rascalities  con- 
nected with  the  Indian  trade,  although  at  this 
season  (August)  hardly  commenced.  However,  a 
band  of  Indians  having  come  in  with  several  packs 
of  last  year's  robes,  and  being  anxious  to  start 
speedily  on  their  return,  a  trader  from  one  of  the 
forts  had  erected  his  lodge  in  the  village. 

Here  he  set  to  work  immediately  to  induce  the 
Indians  to  trade.  First,  a  chief  appoints  three 
"  soldiers  "  to  guard  the  trader's  lodge  from  intru- 
sion ;  and  these  sentries  amongst  the  thieving  fra- 
ternity can  be  invariably  trusted.  Then  the  In- 
dians are  invited  to  have  a  drink  —  a  taste  of  the 
fire-water  being  given  to  all  to  incite  them  to  trade. 
As  the  crowd  presses  upon  the  entrance  to  the 
lodge,  and  those  in  rear  become  impatient,  some 
large-mouthed  savaj^e  who  has  received  a  portion 
of  the  spirit  makes  his  way,  with  his  mouth  full 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  129 

of  the  liquor  and  cheeks  distended,  through  the 
throng,  and  is  instantly  surrounded  by  his  par- 
ticular friends.  Drawing  the  face  of  each,  by 
turns,  near  his  own,  he  squirts  a  small  quantity 
into  his  open  mouth,  until  the  supply  is  exhausted, 
when  he  returns  for  more,  and  repeats  the  gener- 
ous distribution. 

When  paying  for  the  robes,  the  traders,  in 
measuring  out  the  liquor  in  a  tin  half-pint  cup, 
thrust  their  thumbs  or  the  four  fingers  of  the  hand 
into  the  measure,  in  order  that  it  may  contain  the 
less,  or  not  unfrequently  fill  the  bottom  with  melted 
buffalo  fat,  with  the  same  object.  So  greedy 
are  the  Indians  that  they  never  discover  the  cheat, 
and,  once  under  the  influence  of  the  liquor,  cannot 
distinguish  between  the  first  cup  of  comparatively 
strong  spirit,  and  the  following  ones  diluted  five 
hundred  per  cent.,  and  poisonously  drugged  to 
boot. 

Scenes  of  drunkenness,  riot,  and  bloodshed  last 
until  the  trade  is  over.  In  the  winter  it  occupies 
several  weeks,  during  which  period  the  Indians 
present  the  appearance,  under  the  demoralizing 
influence  of  the  liquor,  of  demons  rather  than  of 
men. 


CHAPTER  IV 

LA  BONTE  and  his  companions  proceeded  up 
the  river,  the  Black  Hills  on  their  left  hand, 
from  which  several  small  creeks  or  feeders 
swell  the  waters  of  the  North  Fork.  Along  these 
they  hunted  unsuccessfully  for  beaver  sign,  and 
it  was  evident  the  spring  hunt  had  almost  exter- 
minated the  animal  in  this  vicinity.  Following 
Deer  Creek  to  the  ridge  of  the  Black  Hills,  they 
crossed  the  mountain  on  to  the  waters  of  the  Medi- 
cine Bow,  and  here  they  discovered  a  few  lodges, 
and  La  Bonte  set  his  first  trap.  He  and  old  Luke 
finding  cuttings  near  the  camp,  followed  the  sign 
along  the  bank,  until  the  practiced  eye  of  the 
latter  discovered  a  slide,  where  the  beaver  had 
ascended  the  bank  to  chop  the  trunk  of  a  cotton- 
wood,  and  convey  the  bark  to  its  lodge.  Taking  a 
trap  from  his  sack,  the  old  hunter,  after  setting 
the  trigger,  placed  it  carefully  under  the  M^ater, 
where  the  slide  entered  the  stream,  securing  the 
chain  to  the  stem  of  a  sapling  on  the  bank ;  while 
a  stick,  also  attached  to  the  trap  by  a  thong, 
floated  down  the  stream,  to  mark  the  position  of 
the  trap  should  the  animal  carry  it  away.     A  little 

further  on,  and  near  another  run,  three  traps  were 

130 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  131 

set ;  and  over  these  Luke  placed  a  little  stick, 
which  he  first  dipped  into  a  mysterious-looking 
phial  containing  his  "  medicine."  * 

The  next  morning  they  visited  the  traps,  and 
had  the  satisfaction  of  finding  three  fine  beaver 
secured  in  the  first  three  they  visited,  and  the 
fourth,  which  had  been  carried  away,  they  dis- 
covered by  the  float-stick  a  little  distance  down 
the  stream,  with  a  large  drowned  beaver  between 
its  teeth. 

The  animals  being  carefully  skinned,  they  re- 
turned to  camp  with  the  choicest  portions  of  the 
meat,  and  the  tails,  on  which  they  most  luxuri- 
ously supped ;  and  La  Bonte  was  fain  to  confess 
that  all  his  ideas  of  the  superexcellence  of  buffalo 
were  throwTi  in  the  shade  by  the  delicious  beaver- 
tail,  the  rich  meat  of  which  he  was  compelled  to 
allow  was  "  great  eating,"  unsurpassed  by  tender- 
loin or  "  boudin,"  or  other  meat  of  whatever  kind 
he  had  eaten  of  before. 

The  country  where  La  Bonte  and  his  com- 
panions were  trapping  is  very  curiously  situated 
in  the  extensive  bend  of  the  Platte  which  incloses 
the  Black  Hill  range  on  the  north,  and  which 
bounds  the  large  expanse  of  broken  tract  known 
as  the  Laramie  Plains,  their  southern  limit  being 
the  base  of  the  Medicine  Bow  Mountains.  From 
the  north-western  comer  of  the  bend,  an  incon- 

*  A  substance  obtained  from  a  gland  in  the  scrotum  of 
the  beaver,  and  used  to  attract  that  animal  to  the  trap. 


13«  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

siderable  range  extends  to  the  westward,  gradually 
increasing  in  height  until  it  reaches  an  elevated 
plain,  which  forms  a  break  in  the  stupendous  chain 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and  affords  the  easy  pas- 
sage now  known  as  the  Great,  or  South  Pass. 
So  gradual  is  the  ascent  of  this  portion  of  the 
mountain,  that  the  traveler  can  scarcely  believe 
he  is  crossing  the  dividing  ridge  between  the  waters 
which  flow  into  the  Atlantic  and  Pacific  Oceans, 
and  that  in  a  few  minutes  he  can  fling  two  sticks 
into  two  neighboring  streams,  one  to  be  carried 
thousands  of  miles,  traversed  by  the  eastern  waters 
in  their  course  to  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  the  other  to 
be  borne  a  lesser  distance  to  the  Gulf  of  California. 

The  country  is  frequented  by  the  Crows  and 
Snakes,  who  are  at  perpetual  war  with  the  Shians 
and  Sioux,  following  them  often  far  down  the 
Platte,  where  many  bloody  battles  have  taken 
place.  The  Crows  are  esteemed  friendly  to  the 
whites ;  but  when  on  war  expeditions,  and  "  hair  " 
their  object,  it  is  always  dangerous  to  fall  in  with 
Indian  Avar-parties,  and  particularly  in  the  remote 
regions  of  the  mountains,  where  they  do  not  an- 
ticipate retaliation. 

Trapping  with  tolerable  success  in  this  vicinity, 
the  hunters  crossed  over,  as  soon  as  the  pre- 
monitory storms  of  approaching  winter  warned 
them  to  leave  the  mountains,  to  the  waters  of  Green 
River,  one  of  the  affluents  of  the  Colorado,  intend- 
ing   to    winter    at    a    rendezvous    to    be    held    in 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  188 

Brown's  Hole  —  an  inclosed  rallej  so  called  — 
which,  abounding  in  game,  and  sheltered  on  every 
side  by  lofty  mountains,  is  a  favorite  wintenng- 
ground  of  the  mountaineers.  Here  they  found 
several  trapping  bands  already  arrived;  and  a 
trader  from  the  Uintah  country,  with  store  of 
powder,  lead,  and  tobacco,  prepared  to  ease  them 
of  their  hard-earned  peltries. 

Singly,  and  in  bands  numbering  from  two  to 
ten,  the  trappers  dropped  into  the  rendezvous ; 
some  with  many  pack-loads  of  beaver,  others  with 
greater  or  less  quantity,  and  more  than  one  on 
foot,  having  lost  his  animals  and  peltry  by  Indian 
thieving.  Here  were  soon  congregated  many 
mountaineers,  whose  names  are  famous  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  Far  West.  Fitzpatrick  and  Hatcher, 
and  old  Bill  Williams,  well-known  leaders  of  trap- 
ping parties,  soon  arrived  with  their  bands. 
Sublette  came  in  with  his  men  from  Yellow  Stone, 
and  many  of  Wyeth's  New  Englanders  were  there. 
Chabonard  with  his  half-breeds,  Wah-keitchas  all, 
brought  his  peltries  from  the  lower  country ;  and 
half-a-dozen  Shawanee  and  Delaware  Indians,  with 
a  Mexican  from  Taos,  one  Marcelline,  a  fine  strap- 
ping fellow,  the  best  trapper  and  hunter  in  the 
mountains,  and  ever  first  in  the  fight.  Here,  too, 
arrived  the  "  Bourgeois  "  traders  of  the  "  North- 
West  "  *  Company,  with  their  superior  equipments, 

*  The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  is  so  called  by  the  Ameri- 
can trappers. 


134  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ready  to  meet  their  trappers,  and  purchase  the 
beaver  at  an  equitable  value ;  and  soon  the  trade 
opened,  and  the  encampment  assumed  a  busy  ap- 
pearance. 

A  curious  assemblage  did  the  rendezvous  pre- 
sent, and  representatives  of  many  a  land  met  there. 
A  son  of  la  belle  France  here  lit  his  pipe  from  one 
proffered  by  a  native  of  New  Mexico.  An  Eng- 
lishman and  a  Sandwich  Islander  cut  a  quid  from 
the  same  plug  of  tobacco.  A  Swede  and  an  old 
Virginian  puffed  together.  A  Shawanee  blew  a 
peaceful  cloud  with  a  scion  of  the  Six  Nations. 
One  from  the  Land  of  Cakes  —  a  canny  chiel  — 
souglit  to  "great  round"  (in  trade)  a  right 
*'  smart  "    Yankee,   but   couldn't   "  shine." 

The  beaver  Avent  briskly,  six  dollars  being  the 
price  paid  per  lb.  in  goods  —  for  money  is  sel- 
dom given  in  the  mountain  market,  where  beaver 
is  cash,  for  which  the  articles  supplied  by  the 
traders  are  bartered.  In  a  very  short  time  pel- 
tries of  ever}'-  description  had  changed  hands, 
either  by  trade,  or  by  gambling  with  cards  and 
betting.  With  the  mountain-men  bets  decide 
every  question  that  is  raised,  even  the  most  trivial ; 
and  if  the  editor  of  "  Bell's  Life  "  were  to  pay 
one  of  these  rendezvous  a  winter  visit,  he  would 
find  the  broad  sheet  of  his  paper  hardly  capacious 
enough  to  answer  all  the  questions  which  would 
be  referred  to  his  decision. 

Before  the  winter  was  over,  La  Bonte  had  lost 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  135 

all  traces  of  civilized  humanity,  and  might  justly 
claim  to  be  considered  as  "  hard  a  case  "  as  any 
of  the  mountaineers  then  present.  Long  before 
the  spring  opened,  he  had  lost  all  the  produce  of 
his  hunt  and  both  his  animals,  which,  however, 
by  a  stroke  of  luck,  he  recovered,  and  wisely  held 
on  to  for  the  future.  Right  glad  when  spring 
appeared,  he  started  from  Brown's  Hole,  with 
four  companions,  to  hunt  the  Uintah  or  Snake 
country,  and  the  affluents  of  the  larger  streams 
"which  rise  in  that  region  and  fall  into  the  Gulf 
of  California. 

In  the  valley  of  the  Bear  River  they  found 
heaver  abundant,  and  trapped  their  way  west- 
ward until  they  came  upon  the  famed  locality  of 
the  Beer  and  Soda  Springs  —  natural  fountains 
of  mineral  water,  renowned  amongst  the  trappers 
as  being  "  medicine  "  of  the  first  order. 

Arriving  one  evening,  about  sundown,  at  the 
Bear  Spring,  they  found  a  solitary  trapper  sit- 
ting over  the  rocky  basin,  intently  regarding, 
with  no  little  awe,  the  curious  phenomenon  of  the 
bubbling  gas.  Behind  him  were  piled  his  saddles 
and  a  pack  of  skins,  and  at  a  little  distance  a 
hobbled  Indian  pony  fed  amongst  the  cedars  which 
formed  a  grove  round  the  spring.  As  the  three 
hunters  dismounted  from  their  animals,  the  lone 
trapper  scarcely  noticed  their  arrival,  his  eyes 
being  still  intently  fixed  upon  the  water.  Look- 
ing  round   at   last,   he  was   instantly   recognized 


186  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

bj  one  of  La  Bonte's  companions,  and  saluted 
as  "  Old  Rube."  Dreased  from  licad  to  foot  in 
buckskin,  his  face,  neck,  and  hands  appeared  to 
be  of  the  same  leather j  texture,  so  nearly  did 
they  assimilate  in  color  to  the  materials  of  his 
dress.  He  was  at  least  six  feet  two  or  three  in 
his  moccasins,  straight-limbed  and  wiry,  with 
long  arms  ending  in  hands  of  tremendous  grasp, 
and  a  quantity  of  straight  black  hair  hanging  on 
his  shoulders.  His  features,  which  were  undeni- 
ably good,  wore  an  expression  of  comical  gravity, 
never  relaxing  into  a  smile,  which  a  broad  good- 
humored  mouth  could  have  grinned  from  ear  to 
ear. 

"  What,  boys ! "  he  said,  "  will  you  be  simple 
enough  to  camp  here  alongside  these  springs? 
Nothing  good  ever  came  of  sleeping  here,  I  teli 
you,  and  the  worst  kind  of  devils  are  in  those 
dancing  waters." 

"Why,  old  boss,"  cried  La  Bonte,  "what 
brings  you  hyar  then,  and  camp  at  that?  " 

"  This  nigger,"  answered  Rube,  solemnly, 
"  has  been  down'd  upon  a  sight  too  often  to  be 
skeared  by  what  can  come  out  from  them  waters ; 
and  thar  am't  a  devil  as  hisses  thar  as  can  shine 
with  this  child,  I  tell  you.  I've  tried  him  onest, 
an*  fout  him  to  clawin'  away  to  Eustis ;  *  and  if 

*  A  small  lake  near  the  head-waters  of  the  Yellow  Stone, 
near  which  are  some  curious  thermal  springs  of  ink-black 
water. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  137 

I  draws  my  knife  again  on  such  varmint,  I'll  raise 
his  hair,  as  sure  as  shootin'.  " 

Spite  of  the  reputed  dangers  of  the  locality, 
the  trappers  camped  on  the  spot,  and  many  a 
draught  of  the  delicious  sparkling  water  they 
quaffed  in  honor  of  the  "  medicine  "  of  the  fount. 
Rube,  however,  sat  sulky  and  silent,  his  huge 
form  bending  over  his  legs,  which  were  crossed, 
Indian  fashion,  under  him,  and  his  long  bony 
fingers  spread  over  the  fire,  which  had  been  made 
handy  to  the  spring.  At  last  they  elicited  from 
him  that  he  had  sought  this  spot  for  the  purpose 
of  "  inaking  medicine,''*  having  been  persecuted 
by  extraordinary  ill-luck,  even  at  this  early  period 
of  his  hunt  —  the  Indians  having  stolen  two  out 
of  his  three  animals,  and  three  of  his  half-dozen 
traps.  He  had  therefore  sought  the  springs  for 
the  purpose  of  invoking  the  fountain  spirits, 
which,  a  perfect  Indian  in  his  simple  heart,  he 
implicitly  believed  to  inhabit  their  mysterious 
waters.  When  the  others  had,  as  he  thought, 
fallen  asleep.  La  Bonte  observed  the  ill-starred 
trapper  take  from  his  pouch  a  curiously-cammed 
red  stone  pipe,  which  he  carefully  charged  with 
tobacco  and  kinnik-kinnik.  Then  approaching 
the  spring,  he  walked  three  times  round  it,  and 
gravely  sat  himself  down.  Striking  fire  with  his 
flint  and  steel,  he  lit  his  pipe,  and  bending  the 
stem  three  several  times  towards  the  water,  he  in- 
haled a  vast  quantity  of  smoke,  and  bending  back 


138  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

his  neck  and  looking  upwards,  puffed  it  into  the 
air.  He  then  blew  another  pufF  towards  the  four 
points  of  the  compass,  and  emptying  the  pipe 
into  his  hand,  cast  the  consecrated  contents  into 
the  spring,  saying  a  few  Indian  "  medicine " 
words  of  cabalistic  import.  Having  performed 
the  ceremony  to  his  satisfaction,  he  returned  to 
the  fire,  smoked  a  pipe  on  his  own  hook,  and 
turned  into  his  buffalo-robe,  conscious  of  having 
done  a  most  important  duty. 

In  the  course  of  their  trapping  expedition,  and 
accompanied  by  Rube,  who  knew  the  country  well, 
they  passed  near  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  a  vast  in- 
land sea,  whose  salitrose  waters  cover  an  extent 
of  upwards  of  one  hundred  and  forty  miles  in 
length,  by  eighty  in  breadth.  Fed  by  several 
stream.s,  of  which  the  Big  Bear  Biver  is  the  most 
considerable,  this  lake  presents  the  curious  phe- 
nomenon of  a  vast  body  of  water  without  any 
known  outlet.  According  to  the  trappers,  an  is- 
land, from  which  rises  a  chain  of  lofty  mountains, 
nearly  divides  the  north-western  portion  of  the 
lake,  whilst  a  smaller  one,  within  twelve  miles  of 
the  northern  shore,  rises  six  hundred  feet  from  the 
level  of  the  water.  Rube  declared  to  his  compan- 
ions that  the  larger  island  was  known  by  the  In- 
dians to  be  inhabited  by  a  race  of  giants,  with 
whom  no  communication  had  ever  been  held  by 
mortal  man ;  and  but  for  the  casual  wafting  to 
the  shores  of  the  lake  of  logs  of  gigantic  trees, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  139 

cut  by  axes  of  extraordinary  size,  the  world  would 
never  have  known  that  such  a  people  existed. 
They  were,  moreover,  white  as  themselves,  and 
lived  upon  corn  and  fruits,  and  rode  on  ele- 
phants, &c. 

Whilst  following  a  small  creek  at  the  south- 
west extremit}'^  of  the  lake,  they  came  upon  a  band 
of  miserable  Indians,  who,  from  the  fact  of  their 
subsisting  chiefly  on  roots,  are  called  the  Dig- 
gers. At  first  sight  of  the  whites  they  immedi- 
ately fled  from  their  wretched  huts,  and  made 
towards  the  mountains ;  but  one  of  the  trappers, 
galloping  up  on  his  horse,  cut  off  their  retreat, 
and  drove  them  like  sheep  before  him  back  to  their 
village.  A  few  of  these  wretched  creatures  came 
into  camp  at  sundown,  and  were  regaled  with  such 
meat  as  the  larder  afforded.  They  appeared  to 
have  no  other  food  in  their  village  but  bags  of 
dried  ants  and  their  larvae,  and  a  few  roots  of  the 
3'ampah.  Their  huts  were  constructed  of  a  few 
bushes  of  greasewood,  piled  up  as  a  sort  of  wind- 
break, in  which  they  huddled  in  their  filthy  skins. 
During  the  night  they  crawled  up  to  the  camp 
and  stole  two  of  the  horses,  and  the  next  morning 
not  a  sign  of  them  was  visible.  Now  La  Bonte 
witnessed  a  case  of  mountain  law,  and  the  practi- 
cal effects  of  the  lex  talionis  of  the  Far  West. 

The  trail  of  the  runaway  Diggers  bore  to  the 
north-west,  or  along  the  skirt  of  a  barren  water- 
less  desert,   which   stretches   far   away   from   the 


140  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

southern  shores  of  the  Salt  Lake  to  the  borders 
of  Upper  California.  La  Bonte,  with  three 
others,  determined  to  follow  the  thieves,  recover 
their  animals,  and  then  rejoin  the  other  two  (Luke 
•and  Rube)  on  a  creek  two  days'  journey  from 
their  present  camp.  Starting  at  sunrise,  they 
rode  on  at  a  rapid  pace  all  day,  closely  follow- 
ing the  trail,  which  led  directly  to  the  north-west, 
through  a  wretched  sandy  country,  without  game 
or  water.  From  the  appearance  of  the  track,  the 
Indians  must  still  have  been  several  hours  ahead 
of  them,  when  the  fatigue  of  their  horses,  suffer- 
ing from  want  of  grass  and  water,  compelled  them 
to  camp  near  the  head  of  a  small  water-course, 
where  they  luckily  found  a  hole  containing  a  little 
water,  and  whence  a  broad  Indian  trail  passed, 
apparently  frequently  used.  Long  before  day- 
light they  were  again  in  the  saddle,  and,  after 
proceeding  a  few  miles,  saw  the  lights  of  several 
fires  a  short  distance  ahead  of  them.  Halting 
here,  one  of  the  party  advanced  on  foot  to  recon- 
noiter,  and  presently  returned  with  the  intelli- 
gence that  the  party  they  were  in  pursuit  of  had 
joined  a  village  numbering  thirty  or  forty  huts. 

Loosening  their  girths,  they  permitted  their 
tired  animals  to  feed  on  the  scanty  herbage  which 
presented  itself,  whilst  they  refreshed  themselves 
with  a  pip€  of  tobacco  —  for  they  had  no  meat 
of  any  description  with  them,  and  the  country 
afforded  no  game.     As  the  first  streak  of  dawn 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  141 

appeared  in  the  east,  they  mounted  their  horses, 
after  first  examining  their  rifles,  and  moved  cau- 
tiously towards  the  Indian  village.  As  it  was 
scarcely  light  enough  for  their  operations,  they 
waited  behind  a  sandhill  in  the  vicinity  until  ob- 
jects became  more  distinct;  and  then,  emerging 
from  their  cover  with  loud  war-whoops,  they 
charged  abreast  into  the  midst  of  the  village. 

As  the  frightened  Indians  were  scarcely  risen 
from  their  beds,  no  opposition  was  given  to  the 
daring  mountaineers,  who,  rushing  upon  the  fly- 
ing crowd,  discharged  their  rifles  at  close  quar- 
ters, and  then,  springing  from  tJieir  horses,  at- 
tacked them  knife  in  hand,  and  only  ceased  the 
work  of  butchery  when  nine  Indians  lay  dead 
upon  the  ground.  All  this  time  the  women,  half 
dead  with  fright,  were  huddled  together  on  the 
ground,  howling  piteously ;  and  the  mountaineers, 
advancing  to  them,  whirled  their  lassos  round 
their  heads,  and,  throwing  the  open  nooses  into 
the  midst,  hauled  out  three  of  them,  and  securing 
their  arms  in  the  rope,  bound  them  to  a  tree, 
and  then  proceeded  to  scalp  the  dead  bodies. 
Whilst  they  were  engaged  in  this  work,  an  old 
Indian,  withered  and  grisly,  and  hardly  bigger 
than  an  ape,  suddenly  emerged  from  a  rock,  hold- 
ing in  his  left  hand  a  bow  and  a  handful  of  arrows, 
whilst  one  was  already  drawn  to  the  head.  Run- 
ning towards  them,  and  almost  before  the  huntws 
were    aware     of   his   presence,   he   discharged   an 


14a  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

arrow  at  a  few  yards'  distance,  which  buried  it- 
self in  the  ground  not  a  foot  from  La  Bonte's 
head  as  he  bent  over  the  body  of  the  Indian  he  was 
scalping;  and  hardly  had  the  whiz  ceased,  when 
whirr  flew  another,  striking  him  in  his  right  shoul- 
der. Before  the  Indian  could  fit  a  third  arrow  to 
his  bow.  La  Bonte  sprang  upon  him,  seized  him 
by  the  middle,  and  spinning  his  pigmy  form  round 
his  head  as  easily  as  he  would  have  twirled  a  toma- 
hawk, he  threw  him  with  tremendous  force  on  the 
ground  at  the  feet  of  one  of  his  companions,  who, 
stooping  down,  coolly  thrust  his  knife  into  the 
Indian's  breast,  and  quickly  tore  off  his  scalp. 

The  slaughter  over,  without  casting  an  eye  to 
the  captive  squaws,  the  trappers  proceeded  to 
search  the  village  for  food,  of  which  they  stood 
much  in  need.  Nothing,  however,  was  found  but 
a  few  bags  of  dried  ants,  which,  after  eating 
voraciousb/  of,  but  with  wry  mouths,  they  threw 
aside,  saying  the  food  was  worse  than  "  poor 
bull."  They  found,  however,  the  animals  they 
had  been  robbed  of,  and  two  more  besides  — 
wretched  half-starved  creatures ;  and  on  these 
mounting  their  captives,  they  hurried  away  on 
their  journey  back  to  their  companions,  the  dis- 
tance being  computed  at  three  days'  travel  from 
their  present  position.  However,  they  thought, 
hy  taking  a  more  direct  course,  they  might  find 
better  pasture  for  their  animals,  and  water,  be- 
sides saving  at  least  half  a  day  by  the  short  cut. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  143 

To  their  cost,  they  proved  the  old  saying,  that 
"  a  short  cut  is  always  a  long  road,"  as  will  be 
presently  shown. 

It  has  been  said  that  from  the  south-western 
extremity  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  a  vast  desert 
extends  for  hundreds  of  miles,  unbroken  by  the 
slightest  vegetation,  destitute  of  game  and  water, 
and  presenting  a  cheerless  expanse  of  sandy  plain 
or  rugged  mountain,  thinly  covered  with  dwarf 
pine  or  cedar,  the  only  evidence  of  vegetable  life. 
Into  this  desert,  ignorant  of  the  country,  the 
trappers  struck,  intending  to  make  their  short 
cut ;  and,  traveling  on  all  day,  were  compelled  to 
camp  at  night  without  w-ater  or  pasture  for  their 
exhausted  animals,  and  themselves  ravenous  with 
hunger  and  parched  with  thirst.  The  next  day 
three  of  their  animals  gave  out,  and  they  Avere 
fain  to  leave  them  behind ;  but  imagining  that 
they  must  soon  strike  a  creek,  they  pushed  on 
until  noon,  but  still  no  water  presented  itself, 
nor  a  sign  of  game  of  any  description.  The  ani- 
mals were  nearly  exhausted,  and  a  horse  which 
could  scarcely  keep  up  with  the  slow  pace  of  the 
others  was  killed,  and  its  blood  greedily  drunk 
—  a  portion  of  the  flesh  being  eaten  raw,  and  a 
supply  carried  with  them  for  future  emergencies. 

The  next  morning  two  of  the  horses  lay  dead 
at  their  pickets,  and  one  only  remained,  and  this 
in  such  a  miserable  state  that  it  could  not  possibly 
have  traveled   six  miles   further.     It   was    there- 


IM  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

fore  killed,  and  its  blood  drunk,  of  which,  how- 
ever, the  captive  squaws  refused  to  partake.  The 
men  began  to  feel  the  effects  of  their  consuming 
thirst,  which  the  hot  horse's  blood  only  served  to 
increase;  their  lips  became  parched  and  swollen, 
their  eyes  bloodshot,  and  a  giddy  sickness  seized 
them  at  intervals.  About  raid-day  they  came  in 
sight  of  a  mountain  on  their  right  hand,  which  ap- 
peared to  be  more  thickly  clothed  with  vegetation ; 
and  arguing  from  this  that  water  would  be  found 
there,  they  left  tlieir  course  and  made  towards  it, 
although  some  eight  or  ten  miles  distant.  On  ar- 
riving at  the  base,  the  most  minute  search  failed 
to  discover  the  slightest  traces  of  water,  and  the 
vegetation  merely  consisted  of  dwarf  pinon  and 
cedar.  With  their  sufferings  increased  by  the 
exertion  they  had  used  in  reaching  the  mountain*' 
they  once  more  sought  the  trail,  but  every  step 
told  on  their  exhausted  frames.  The  sun  was 
very  powerful ;  the  sand  over  which  they  flound- 
ered was  deep  and  heavy ;  and,  to  complete  their 
sufferings,  a  high  wind  blew  it  in  their  faces,  fill- 
ing their  mouths  and  noses  with  its  searching 
particles. 

Still  they  struggled  onwards  manfully,  and  not 
a  murmur  was  heard  until  their  hunger  had  en- 
tered the  second  stage  upon  the  road  to  starva- 
tion. They  had  now  been  three  days  without 
food  or  water,  under  which  privation  nature  can 
hardly  sustain  herself  for  a  much  longer  period. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  1*5 

On  the  fourth  morning  the  men  looked  wolfish, 
their  captives  following  behind  in  sullen  and  per- 
fect indifference,  occasionally  stooping  down  to 
catch  a  beetle  if  one  presented  itself,  and  greedily 
devouring  it.  A  man  named  Forey,*  a  Canadian 
half-breed,  was  the  first  to  complain.  "  If  this 
lasted  another  sundown,"  he  said,  "  some  of  them 
would  be  rubbed  out;  that  meat  had  to  be  raised 
anyhow;  and  for  his  part,  he  knew  where  to  look 
for  a  feed,  if  no  game  was  seen  before  they  put 
out  of  camp  on  the  morrow;  and  meat  was  meat, 
anyhow  they  fixed  it." 

No  answer  was  made  to  this,  though  his  com- 
panions well  understood  him:  their  natures  as  yet 
revolted  against  the  last  expedient.  As  for  the 
three  squaws,  all  of  them  young  girls,  they  fol- 
lowed behind  their  captors  without  a  word  of 
complaint,  and  with  the  stoical  indifference  to 
pain  and  suffering  which  alike  characterizes  the 
haughty  Delaware  of  the  North  and  the  miserable 
stunted  Digger  of  the  deserts  of  the  Far  West. 
On  the  morning  of  the  fifth  day  the  party  were 
seated  round  a  small  fire  of  piiion,  hardly  able 
to  rise  and  commence  their  journey,  the  squaws 
squatting  over  another  at  a  little  distance,  when 
Forey  commenced  again  to  suggest  that,  if  noth- 
ing offered,  they  must  either  take  the  alternative 
of  starving  to  death  —  for  they  could  not  hope 
to  last   another  day  —  or  have   recourse   to   the 

*  Also  known  as  Furey.     (Ed.) 


146  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

revolting  extremity  of  sacrificing  one  of  the  party 
to  save  the  lives  of  all.  To  this,  however,  there 
was  a  murmur  of  dissent,  and  it  was  finally  re- 
solved that  all  should  sally  out  and  hunt,  for  a 
deer-track  had  been  discovered  near  the  camp, 
which,  although  it  was  not  a  fresh  one,  proved 
that  there  must  be  game  in  the  vicinity.  Weak 
and  exhausted  as  they  were,  they  took  their  rifles 
and  started  for  the  neighboring  uplands,  each 
taking  a  different  direction. 

It  was  nearly  sunset  when  La  Bonte  returned 
to  the  camp,  where  he  already  espied  one  of  his 
companions  engaged  in  cooking  something  over 
the  fire.  Hurrying  to  the  spot,  overjoyed  with 
the  anticipations  of  a  feast,  he  observed  that  the 
squaws  were  gone;  but,  at  the  same  time,  thought 
it  was  not  improbable  they  had  escaped  during 
their  absence.  Approaching  the  fire,  he  observed 
Forey  broiling  some  meat  on  the  embers,  whilst 
at  a  little  distance  lay  what  he  fancied  was  the 
carcass  of  a  deer. 

"  Hurrah,  boy ! "  he  exclaimed,  as  he  drew  near 
the  fire.     "  You've  made  a  raise,  I  see." 

*'  Well,  I  have,"  rejoined  the  other,  turning  his 
meat  with  the  point  of  his  butcher-knife. 
*'  There's  the  meat,  hoss  —  help  yourself." 

La  Bonte  drew  his  knife  from  the  scabbard, 
and  approached  the  spot  his  companion  was 
pointing  to;  but  what  Avas  his  horror  to  see  the 
yet  quivering  body  of  one  of  the  Indian  squaws, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  147 

with  a  large  portion  of  the  flesh  butchered  from 
it,  part  of  which  Forey  was  already  greedily  de- 
vouring. The  knife  dropped  from  his  hand,  and 
his  heart  rose  to  his  throat. 

The  next  day  he  and  his  companion  struck  the 
creek  where  Rube  and  the  other  trapper  had 
agreed  to  await  them,  and  found  them  in  camp 
with  plenty  of  meat,  and  about  to  start  again  on 
their  hunt,  having  given  up  the  others  for  lost. 
From  the  day  they  parted,  nothing  was  ever 
heard  of  La  Bonte's  other  two  companions,  who 
doubtless  fell  a  prey  to  utter  exhaustion,  and 
were  unable  to  return  to  the  camp.  And  thus 
ended  the  Digger  expedition. 

It  may  appear  almost  incredible  that  men  hav- 
ing civilized  blood  in  their  veins  could  perpetrate 
such  wanton  and  cold-blooded  acts  of  aggression 
on  the  wretched  Indians  as  that  detailed  above ; 
but  it  is  fact  that  the  mountaineers  never  lose 
an  opportunity  of  slaughtering  these  miserable 
Diggers,  and  attacking  their  villages,  often  for 
the  purpose  of  capturing  women,  whom  they 
carry  off,  and  not  unfrequently  sell  to  other 
tribes,  or  to  each  other.  In  these  attacks  neither 
sex  nor  age  is  spared ;  and  your  mountaineer  has 
as  little  compunction  in  taking  the  life  of  an 
Indian  woman,  as  he  would  have  in  sending  his 
rifle-ball  through  the  brain  of  a  Crow  or  Black- 
foot  warrior. 

La  Bonte  now  found  himself  without  animals, 


148  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

and  fairly  afoot;  consequently  nothing  remained 
for  him  but  to  seek  some  of  the  trapping  bands, 
and  hire  himself  for  the  hunt.  Luckily  for  him, 
he  soon  fell  in  with  Roubideau,  on  his  way  to 
Uintah,  and  iras  supplied  by  him  with  a  couple 
of  animals ;  and  thus  equipped,  he  started  again 
with  a  large  band  of  trappers,  who  were  going 
to  hunt  on  the  waters  of  Grand  River  and  the 
Gila.  Here  they  fell  in  with  another  nation  of 
Indians,  from  which  branch  out  the  innumerable 
tribes  inhabiting  Northern  Mexico  and  part  of 
California.  They  were  in  general  friendly,  but 
lost  no  opportunity  of  stealing  horses  or  any 
articles  left  lying  about  the  camp.  On  one  oc- 
casion, the  trappers  being  camped  on  a  northern 
affluent  of  the  Gila,  a  volley  of  arrows  was  dis- 
charged amongst  them,  severely  wounding  one  or 
two  of  the  party  as  they  sat  round  the  camp-fires. 
The  attack,  however,  was  not  renewed,  and  the 
next  day  the  camp  was  moved  further  down  the 
sfeream,  where  beaver  was  tolerably  abundant. 
Before  sundown  a  number  of  Indians  made  their 
appearance,  and,  making  signs  of  peace,  were  ad- 
Kdtted  into  the  camp. 

The  trappers  were  all  sitting  at  their  suppers 
over  the  fires,  the  Indians  looking  gravely  on, 
when  it  was  remarked  that  now  would  be  a  good 
opportunity  to  retaliate  upon  them  for  the  trouble 
their  incessant  attacks  had  entailed  upon  the 
camp.     The  suggestion  was  highly  approved  of. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  149 

and  instantly  acted  upon.  Springing  to  their 
feet,  the  trappers  seized  their  rifles,  and  com- 
menced the  slaughter.  The  Indians,  panic- 
struck,  fled  without  resistance,  and  numbers  fell 
before  the  death-deaiiiig  rifles  of  the  mountain- 
eers. A  chief,  who  had  been  sitting  on  a  rock 
near  the  fire  where  the  leader  of  the  trappers  sat, 
had  been  singled  out  bj  the  latter  as  the  first 
mark  for  his  rifle. 

Placing  the  muzzle  to  his  heart,  he  pulled  the 
trigger,  but  the  Indian,  with  extraordinary  tenac- 
ity of  life,  rose  and  grappled  with  his  assailant. 
The  white  was  a  tall  powerful  man,  but  notwith- 
standing the  deadly  wound  the  Indian  had  re- 
ceived, he  had  his  equal  in  strength  to  contend 
against.  The  naked  form  of  the  Indian  twisted 
and  writhed  in  his  grasp  as  he  sought  to  avoid 
the  trapper's  uplifted  knife.  Many  of  the  lat- 
ter's  companions  advanced  to  administer  the  coup- 
de-grace  to  the  savage,  but  the  trapper  cried  to 
them  to  keep  off:  "  If  he  couldn't  whip  the  Injun," 
he  said  "  he'd  go  under." 

At  length  he  succeeded  in  throwing  him,  and, 
plunging  his  knife  no  less  than  seven  times  into 
his  body,  he  tore  off^  his  scalp,  and  went  in  pursuit 
of  the  flying  savages.  In  the  course  of  an  hour 
or  two  all  the  party  returned,  and,  sitting  by  the 
fires,  resumed  their  suppers,  which  had  been  in- 
terrupted in  the  manner  just  described.  Walker, 
the  captain  of  the  band,  sat  down  by  the  fire  where 


150  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

he  had  been  engaged  in  the  struggle  with  the  In- 
dian chief,  whose  body  was  lying  within  a  few 
paces  of  it.  He  was  in  the  act  of  fighting  the  bat- 
tle over  again  to  one  of  his  companions,  and  was 
saying  that  the  Indian  had  as  much  life  in  him 
as  a  buffalo  bull,  when,  to  the  horror  of  all  pres- 
ent, the  savage,  who  had  received  wounds  sufficient 
for  twenty  deaths,  suddenly  rose  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture, the  fire  shedding  a  glowing  light  upon  the 
horrid  spectacle.  The  face  was  a  mass  of  clotted 
blood,  which  flowed  from  the  lacerated  scalp,  whilst 
gouts  of  blood  streamed  from  eight  gaping  wounds 
in  the  naked  breast. 

Slowly  this  frightful  figure  rose  to  a  sitting  pos- 
ture, and,  bending  slowly  forAvard  to  the  fire,  the 
mouth  was  seen  to  open  wide,  and  a  hollow  gurgling 
—  owg-h-h  —  broke  from  it. 

"  11 — !  "  exclaimed  the  trapper  —  and  jumping 
up,  he  placed  a  pistol  to  the  ghastly  head,  the  eyes 
of  which  sternly  fixed  themselves  on  his,  and,  pull- 
ing the  trigger,  blew  the  poor  wretch's  skull  to 
atoms. 

The  Gila  passes  through  a  barren  sandy  coun- 
try, with  but  little  game,  and  sparsely  inhabited 
by  several  different  tribes  of  the  great  nation  of 
the  Apache.  Unlike  the  rivers  of  this  western  re- 
gion, this  stream  is,  in  most  parts  of  its  course, 
particularly  towards  its  upper  waters,  entirely 
bare  of  timber,  and  the  bottom,  through  which  it 
runs,    affords    but    little    of    the    coarsest    grass. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  151 

Whilst  on  this  stream,  the  trapping  party  lost 
several  animals  for  want  of  pasture,  and  many 
more  from  the  predatory  attacks  of  the  cunning 
Indians.  These  losses,  however,  they  invariably 
made  good  whenever  they  encountered  a  native 
village  —  taking  care,  moreover,  to  repay  them- 
selves with  interest  whenever  occasion   offered. 

Notwithstanding  the  sterile  nature  of  the  coun- 
try, the  trappers,  during  their  passage  up  the 
Gila,  saw  with  astonisliment  that  the  arid  and  bar- 
ren valley  had  once  been  peopled  by  a  race  of  men 
far  superior  to  the  present  nomad  tribes  who 
roam  over  it.  With  no  little  awe  they  gazed  upon 
the  ruined  walls  of  large  cities,  and  the  remains 
of  houses,  with  their  ponderous  beams  and  joists, 
still  testifying  to  the  skill  and  industry  with  which 
they  were  constructed:  huge  ditches  and  irrigat- 
ing canals,  now  filled  with  rank  vegetation,  fur- 
rowed the  plains  in  the  vicinity,  marking  tlie  spot 
where  once  green  waving  maize  and  smiling  gar- 
dens covered  what  now  is  a  bare  and  sandy  desert. 
Pieces  of  broken  pottery,  of  domestic  utensils, 
stained  with  bright  colors,  everywhere  strewed  the 
ground ;  and  spear  and  arrow  heads  of  stone,  and 
quaintly-carved  idols,  and  women's  ornaments  of 
agate  and  obsidian,  were  picked  up  often  by  the 
wondering  trappers,  examined  with  childlike  curi- 
osity, and  thrown  carelessly  aside.* 

*  The  Aztecs  are  supposed  to  have  built  this  city  during 
their  migration  to  the  south:  there  is  little  doubt,  however, 


152  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

A  Taos  Indian,  who  was  amongst  the  band,  was 
evidently  impressed  with  a  melancholy  awe  as  he 
regarded  these  ancient  monuments  of  his  fallen 
people.  At  midnight  he  rose  from  his  blanket 
and  left  the  camp,  which  was  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
ruined  city,  stealthily  picking  his  way  through 
the  line  of  slumbering  forms  which  lay  around; 
and  the  watchful  sentinel  observed  him  approach 
the  ruins  with  a  slow  and  reverential  gait.  En- 
tering the  moldering  walls,  he  gazed  silently 
around,  where  in  ages  past  his  ancestors  trod 
proudly,  a  civilized  race,  the  tradition  of  which, 
well  known  to  his  people,  served  but  to  make  their 
present  degraded  position  more  galling  and  ap- 
parent. Cowering  under  the  shadow  of  a  crum- 
bling wall,  the  Indian  drew  his  blanket  over  his 
head,  and  conjured  to  his  mind's  eye  the  former 
power  and  grandeur  of  his  race  —  that  warlike 
people  who,  forsaking  their  own  country  for 
causes  o-f  which  no  tradition,  however  dim,  now 
exists,  sought  in  the  fruitful  and  teeming  valleys 
of  the  south  a  soil  and  climate  which  their  own 
lands  did  not  afford,  and,  displacing  the  wild 
and  barbarous  hordes  inhabiting  the  land,  raised 
there  a  mighty  empire,  great  in  riches  and  civiliza- 
tion. 

The  Indian  bowed  his  head,  and  mourned  the 

but  that  the  region  extending  from  the  Gila  to  the  Great 
Salt  Lake,  and  embracing  the  province  of  New  Mexico,  was 
the  locality  from  which  they  emigrated. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  153 

fallen  greatness  of  his  tribe.  Rising,  he  slowly 
drew  his  tattered  blanket  round  his  body,  and  pre- 
pared to  leave  the  spot,  when  the  shadow  of  a  mov- 
ing figure,  creeping  past  a  gap  in  the  ruined  wall 
through  which  the  moonbeams  played,  suddenly 
arrested  his  attention.  Rigid  as  a  statue,  he 
stood  transfixed  to  the  spot,  thinking  a  fonner 
inhabitant  of  the  city  was  visiting,  in  a  ghostly 
form,  the  scenes  his  body  once  knew  so  well.  The 
bow  in  his  right  hand  shook  with  fear  as  he  saw 
the  shadow  approach,  but  was  as  tightly  and 
steadily  grasped  when,  on  the  figure  emerging 
from  the  shade  of  the  wall,  he  distinguished  the 
form  of  a  naked  Apache,  armed  with  bow  and 
arrow,  crawling  stealthily  through  the  gloomy 
ruins. 

Standing  undiscovered  within  the  shadow  of 
the  wall,  the  Taos  raised  his  bow,  and  drew  an  ar- 
row to  the  head,  until  the  other,  who  was  bend- 
ing low  to  keep  under  cover  of  the  wall,  and  thus 
approach  the  sentinel  standing  at  a  short  dis- 
tance, seeing  suddenly  the  well-defined  shadow  on 
the  ground,  rose  upright  on  his  legs,  and,  know- 
ing escape  was  impossible,  threw  his  arms  down 
his  sides,  and,  drawing  himself  erect,  exclaimed 
in  a  suppressed  tone,  "  Wa-g-h !  " 

"  Wagh ! "  exclaimed  the  Taos  likewise,  but 
quickly  dropped  his  arrow  point,  and  eased  the 
bow. 

"  What  does  my  brother  want,"  he  asked,  **  that 


154  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

he  lopes  like  a  wolf  round  the  fires  of  the  white 
hunters  ?  " 

"  Is  my  brother's  skin  not  red?  "  returned  the 
Apache,  "  and  yet  he  asks  question  that  needs  no 
answer.  Why  does  the  medicine- wolf  follow  the 
buffalo  and  deer?  For  blood  —  and  for  blood 
the  Indian  follows  the  treacherous  white  from 
camp  to  camp,  to  strike  blow  for  blow,  until  the 
deaths  of  those  so  basely  killed  are  fully  avenged." 

"  My  brother  speaks  mth  a  big  heart,  and  his 
words  are  true;  and  though  the  Taos  and  Pimo 
(Apache)  black  their  faces  towards  each  other 
(are  at  war),  here,  on  the  graves  of  their  com- 
m.on  fathers,  there  is  peace  between  them.  Let 
my  brother  go." 

The  Apache  moved  quickly  away,  and  the  Taos 
on-ce  more  sought  the  camp-fires  of  his  white  com- 
panions. 

Following  the  course  of  the  Gila  to  the  east- 
ward, they  crossed  a  range  of  the  Sierra  Madre, 
which  is  a  continuation  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
and  struck  the  waters  of  the  Rio  del  Norte  below 
the  settlements  of  New  Mexico.  On  this  stream 
they  fared  well ;  besides  trapping  a  great  quantity 
of  beaver,  game  of  all  kinds  abounded,  and  the 
bluffs  near  the  well-timbered  banks  of  the  river 
were  covered  with  rich  gramma  grass,  on  which 
their  half-starved  animals  speedily  improved  in 
condition. 

They  remained  for  some  weeks  encamped  on  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  155 

right  bank  of  the  stream,  during  which  period 
they  lost  one  of  their  number,  shot  with  an  ar- 
row whilst  lying  asleep  within  a  few  feet  of  the 
camp-fire. 

The  Navajos  continually  prowl  along  that  por- 
tion of  the  river  which  runs  through  the  settle- 
ments of  New  Mexico,  preying  upon  the  cowardly 
inhabitants,  and  running  off  with  their  cattle 
whenever  they  are  exposed  in  sufficient  numbers  to 
tempt  them.  Whilst  ascending  the  river,  the  trap- 
pers met  a  party  of  these  Indians  returning  to 
their  mountain  homes  with  a  large  band  of  mules 
and  horses,  which  they  had  taken  from  one  of  the 
Mexican  towns,  besides  several  women  and  chil- 
dren, whom  they  had  captured  as  slaves.  The 
main  body  of  the  trappers  halting,  ten  of  the 
band  followed  and  charged  upon  the  Indians  who 
numbered  at  least  sixty,  killed  seven  of  them,  and 
retook  the  prisoners  and  the  whole  cavallada  of 
horses  and  mules.  Great  were  the  rejoicings 
when  they  entered  Socorro,  the  town  whence  the 
women  and  children  had  been  taken,  and  as  loud 
the  remonstrances  when,  handing  them  over  to 
their  families,  the  trappers  rode  on,  driving  fifty 
of  the  best  of  the  rescued  animals  before  them, 
which  they  retained  as  payment  for  their  services. 
Messengers  were  sent  on  to  Albuquerque  with  in- 
telligence of  the  proceeding;  and  as  troops  were 
stationed  there,  the  commandant  was  applied  to, 
to  chastise  the  insolent  whites. 


156  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

That  warrior,  on  learning  that  the  trappers 
numbered  less  than  fifteen,  became  alarmingly 
brave,  and  ordering  out  the  whole  of  his  dispos- 
able force,  some  two  hundred  dragoons,  sallied 
out  to  intercept  the  audacious  mountaineers. 
About  noon  one  day,  just  as  the  latter  had 
emerged  from  a  little  town  between  Socorro  and 
Albuquerque,  they  descried  the  imposing  force  of 
the  dragoons  winding  along  a  plain  ahead.  As 
the  trappers  advanced,  the  officer  in  command 
halted  his  men,  and  sent  out  a  trumpeter  to  order 
the  former  to  await  his  coming.  Treating  the 
herald  to  a  roar  of  laughter,  on  they  went,  and,  as 
they  approached  the  soldiers,  broke  into  a  trot, 
ten  of  the  number  forming  line  in  front  of  the 
packed  and  looee  animals,  and,  rifle  in  hand,  charg- 
ing with  loud  whoops.  This  was  enough  for  the 
New  Mexicans.  Before  the  enemy  were  within 
shooting  distance  the  gallant  fellows  turned  tail, 
and  splashed  into  the  river,  dragging  themselves 
up  the  opposite  bank  like  half-drowned  rats,  and 
saluted  with  loud  peals  of  laughter  by  the  victo- 
rious mountaineers,  who,  firing  a  volley  into  the 
air  in  token  of  supreme  contempt,  quietly  con- 
tinued their  route  up  the  stream. 

Before  reaching  the  capital  of  the  province 
they  struck  again  to  the  westward,  and,  following 
a  small  creek  to  its  junction  with  the  Green  River, 
ascended  that  stream,  trapping  en  route  to  the 
Uintah  or  Snake  Fork,  and  arrived  at  Roubideau's 


IN  THE  QLD  WEST  167 

rendezvous  early  in  the  fall,  where  they  quickly 
disposed  of  their  peltries,  and  were  once  more  on 
"  the  loose." 

Here  La  Bonte  married  a  Snake  squaw,  with 
whom  he  crossed  the  mountains  and  proceeded  to 
the  Platte  through  the  Bayou  Salade,  where  he  pur- 
chased of  the  Yutas,  a  commodious  lodge,  with  the 
necessary  poles,  &c. ;  and  being  now  rich  in  mules 
and  horses,  and  in  all  things  necessary  for  otium 
cum  dignitate,  he  took  unto  himself  another  wife, 
as  by  mountain  law  allowed ;  and  thus  equipped, 
with  both  his  better  halves  attired  in  all  the  glory 
of  "  fofarraw,"  he  went  his  way  rejoicing. 

In  a  snug  little  valley  lying  under  the  shadow 
of  the  mountains,  watered  by  Vermilion  Creek,  and 
in  which  abundance  of  buffalo,  elk,  deer,  and  ante- 
lope fed  and  fattened  on  the  rich  grass,  La  Bonte 
raised  his  lodge,  employing  himself  in  hunting, 
and  fully  occupying  his  wives'  time  in  dressing 
the  skins  of  the  many  animals  he  killed.  Here  he 
enjoyed  himself  amazingly  until  the  commence- 
ment of  winter,  when  he  determined  to  cross  to  the 
North  Fork  and  trade  his  skins,  of  which  he  had 
now  as  many  packs  as  his  animals  could  carry. 
It  happened  that  he  one  day  left  his  camp,  to 
spend  a  couple  of  days  hunting  buffalo  in  the 
mountains,  wliither  the  bulls  were  now  resorting, 
intending  to  *'  put  out  "  for  Platte  on  his  return. 
His  hunt,  however,  led  him  farther  into  the  moun- 
tains than  he  anticipated,  and  it  was  only  on  the 


158  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

third  day  that  sundown  saw  him  enter  the  little 
valley  where  his  camp  was  situated. 

Crossing  the  creek,  he  was  not  a  little  disturbed 
at  seeing  fresh  Indian  sign  on  the  opposite  side, 
which  led  in  the  direction  of  his  lodge ;  and  his 
worst  fears  were  realized  when,  on  coming  within 
sight  of  the  little  plateau  where  the  conical  top 
of  his  white  lodge  had  always  before  met  his  view, 
he  saw  nothing  but  a  blackened  mass  strewing  the 
ground,  and  the  burnt  ends  of  the  poles  which  had 
once  supported  it. 

Squaws,  animals,  and  peltry,  all  were  gone  — 
an  Arapaho  moccasin  lying  on  the  ground  told 
him  where.  He  neither  fumed  nor  fretted,  but, 
throwing  the  meat  off  his  pack  animal,  and  the 
saddle  from  his  horse,  he  collected  the  black- 
ened ends  of  the  lodge  poles  and  made  a  fire  — 
led  his  beasts  to  water  and  hobbled  them,  threw 
a  piece  of  buffalo-meat  upon  the  coals,  squatted 
down  before  the  fire,  and  lit  his  pipe.  La  Bonte 
was  a  true  philosopher.  Notwithstanding  that 
his  house,  his  squaws,  his  peltries,  were  gone  at 
one  fell  swoop,  the  loss  scarcely  disturbed  his 
equanimity ;  and  before  the  tobacco  in  his  pipe  was 
half  smoked  out,  he  had  ceased  to  think  of  his 
misfortune.  Certes,  as  he  turned  his  apolla  of 
tenderloin,  he  sighed  as  he  thought  of  the  deli- 
cate manipulations  with  which  his  Shoshone  squaw, 
Sah-qua-manish,  was  wont  to  beat  to  tenderness 
the  toughest  bull  meat  —  and  missed  the  tending 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  169 

care  of  Yute  Chil-co-the,  or  the  "  Reed  that 
Bends,"  in  patching  the  holes  worn  in  his  neatly- 
fitting  moccasins,  the  work  of  her  nimble  fingers. 
However,  he  ate  and  smoked,  and  smoked  and  ate, 
and  slept  none  the  worse  for  his  mishap ;  thought, 
before  he  closed  his  eyes,  a  little  of  his  lost  wives, 
and  more  perhaps  of  the  "  Bending  Reed  "  than 
of  Sah-qua-manish,  or  *'  She  Who  Runs  with  the 
Stream  " —  drew  his  blanket  tightly  round  him, 
felt  his  rifle  handy  to  his  graap,  and  was  speedily 
asleep. 

Whilst  the  tired  mountaineer  breathes  hei^/ily 
in  his  dream,  careless  and  unconscious  that  a  liv- 
ing soul  is  near,  his  mule  on  a  sudden  pricks  her 
ears  and  stares  into  the  gloom,  whence  a  figure 
soon  emerges,  and  with  noiseless  steps  draws  near 
the  sleeping  hunter.  Taking  one  look  at  the 
slumbering  form,  the  same  figure  approaches  the 
fire  and  adds  a  log  to  the  pile;  which  done,  it 
quietly  seats  itself  at  the  feet  of  the  sleeper,  and 
remains  motionless  as  a  statue. 

Towards  morning  the  hunter  awoke,  and,  rub- 
bing his  eyes,  was  astonished  to  feel  the  glowing 
warmth  of  the  fire  striking  on  his  naked  feet, 
which,  in  Indian  fashion,  were  stretched  towards 
it ;  as  by  this  time,  he  knew,  the  fire  he  left  burning 
must  long  since  have  expired.  Lazily  raising  him- 
self on  his  elbow,  he  saw  a  figure  sitting  near  it 
with  the  back  turned  to  him,  which,  although  his 
exclamatory  wagh  was  loud  enough  in   all  con- 


160  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

science,  remained  perfectly  motionless,  until  the 
trapper,  rising,  placed  his  hand  upon  the  shoul- 
der: then,  turning  up  its  face,  the  features  dis- 
played to  his  wondering  eye  were  those  of  Chil-co- 
the,  his  Yuta  wife.  Yes,  indeed,  the  "  Bending 
Reed "  had  escaped  from  her  Arapaho  captors, 
and  made  her  way  back  to  her  white  husband,  fast- 
ing and  alone. 

The  Indian  women  who  follow  the  fortunes  of 
the  white  hunters  are  remarkable  for  their  affec- 
tion and  fidelity  to  their  husbands,  the  which  vir- 
tues, it  must  be  remarked,  are  all  on  their  own 
side;  for,  with  very  few  exceptions,  the  mountain- 
eers seldom  scruple  to  abandon  their  Indian  wives 
whenever  the  fancy  takes  them  to  change  their 
harems ;  and  on  such  occasions  the  squaws,  thus 
cast  aside,  wild  with  jealousy  and  despair,  have 
been  not  unfrequently  known  to  take  signal  venge- 
ance both  on  their  faithless  husbands  and  on 
the  successful  beauties  who  have  supplanted  them 
in  their  affections.  There  are  some  honorable  ex- 
ceptions, however,  to  such  cruelty,  and  many  of 
the  mountaineers  stick  to  their  red-skinned  wives 
for  better  and  for  worse,  often  suffering  them  to 
gain  the  upper  hand  in  the  domestic  economy  of 
the  lodges,  and  being  ruled  by  their  better  halves 
in  all  things  pertaining  to  family  affairs ;  and 
it  may  be  remarked  that,  when  once  the  lady  dons 
the  unmentionables,  she  becomes  the  veriest  ter- 
magant that  ever  henpecked  an  unfortunate  hus- 


IN  THE  OIJD  WEST  161 

band.  Your  refined  trappers,  however,  who,  after 
many  years  of  bachelor  hfe,  incHne  to  take  to 
theniselves  a  better  half,  often  undertake  an  ex- 
pedition into  the  settlements  of  New  Mexico,  where 
not  unfrequently  they  adopt  a  Young  Lochinvar 
system  in  procuring  the  required  rib,  and  have 
been  known  to  carry  off  vi  et  armis,  from  the  midst 
of  a  fandango  in  Fernandez  or  El  Rancho  of  Taos, 
some  dark-skinned  beauty  —  with  or  without  her 
own  consent  is  a  matter  of  unconcern  —  and  bear 
the  ravished  fair  one  across  the  mountains,  where 
she  soon  becomes  inured  to  the  free  and  roving 
life  fate  has  assigned  her. 

American  women  are  valued  at  a  low  figure  in 
the  mountains.  They  are  too  fine  and  "  fofar- 
raw."  Neither  can  they  make  moccasins,  or  dress 
skins ;  nor  are  they  so  schooled  to  perfect  obedience 
to  their  lords  and  masters  as  to  stand  a  "  lodge- 
poling,"  which  the  western  lords  of  the  creation 
not  unfrequently  deem  it  their  bounden  duty  to 
inflict  upon  their  squaws  for  some  dereliction  of 
domestic  duty. 

To  return,  however,  to  La  Bonte.  Tliat  worthy 
thought  himself  a  lucky  man  to  have  lost  but  one 
of  his  wives,  and  she  the  worst  of  the  two. 
"  Here's  the  beauty,"  he  philosophized,  "  of  hav- 
ing two  wiping-sticks  to  your  rifle;  if  one  breaks 
whilst  ramming  down  a  ball,  there's  still  hickory 
left  to  supply  its  place."  Although,  with  ani- 
mals and  peltry,  he  had  lost  several  hundred  dol- 


162  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

lars'  worth  of  "  possibles,"  he  never  groaned  or 
grumbled.  "  There's  redskin  will  pay  for  this," 
he  once  muttered,  and  Avas  done. 

Packing  all  that  was  left  on  the  mule,  and 
mounting  Chil-co-the  on  his  buffalo  horse,  he  shoul- 
dered his  rifle  and  struck  the  Indian  trail  for 
Platte.  On  Horse  Creek  they  came  upon  a  party 
of  French  *  trappers  and  hunters,  who  were  en- 
camped with  their  lodges  and  Indian  squaws,  and 
formed  quite  a  village.  Several  old  companions 
were  amongst  them;  and,  to  celebrate  the  arrival 
of  a  "  camarade,"  a  splendid  dog-feast  was  pre- 
pared in  honor  of  the  event.  To  effect  this,  the 
squaws  sallied  out  of  their  lodges  to  seize  upon 
sundry  of  the  younger  and  plumper  of  the  pack, 
to  fill  the  kettles  for  the  approaching  feast.  With 
a  presentiment  of  the  fate  in  store  for  them,  the 
curs  slunk  away  with  tails  between  their  legs,  and 
declined  the  pressing  invitations  of  the  anxious 
squaws.  These  shouldered  their  tomahawks  and 
gave  chase;  but  the  cunning  pups  outstripped 
them,  and  would  have  fairly  beaten  the  kettles,  if 
some  of  the  mountaineers  had  not  stepped  out  with 
their  rifles,  and  quickly  laid  half-a-dozen  ready  to 
the  knife.  A  cayeute,  attracted  by  the  scent  of 
blood,  drew  near,  unwitting  of  the  canine  feast  in 
progress,  and  was  likewise  soon  made  dog  of,  and 
thrust  into  the  boiling  kettle  with  the  rest. 

*  Creoles  of  St.  Louis,  and  French  Canadians. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  163 

The  feast  that  night  was  long  protracted;  and 
so  savory  was  the  stew,  and  so  agreeable  to  the 
palates  of  the  hungry  hunters,  that  at  the  moment 
the  last  morsel  was  drawn  from  the  pot,  when  all 
were  regretting  that  a  few  more  dogs  had  not  been 
slaughtered,  a  wolfish-looking  cur,  who  incautiously 
poked  his  long  nose  and  head  under  the  lodge  skin, 
was  pounced  upon  by  the  nearest  hunter,  who  in 
a  moment  drew  his  knife  across  the  animal's  throat, 
and  threw  it  to  a  squaw  to  skin  and  prepare  for 
the  pot.  The  wolf  had  long  since  been  vigorously 
discussed,  and  voted  by  all  hands  to  be  "  good  as 
dog." 

"  Meat's  meat,"  is  a  common  saying  in  the  moun- 
tains, and  from  the  buffalo  down  to  the  rattle^ 
snake,  including  every  quadruped  that  runs,  every 
fowl  that  flies,  and  every  reptile  that  creeps,  noth- 
ing comes  amiss  to  the  mountaineer.  Throwing 
aside  all  the  qualms  and  conscientious  scruples  of 
a  fastidious  stomach,  it  must  be  confessed  that 
dog-meat  takes  a  high  rank  in  the  wonderful  vari- 
ety of  cuisine  afforded  to  the  gourmand  and  the 
gourmet  by  the  prolific  mountains.  Now,  when 
the  bill  of  fare  offers  such  tempting  viands  as  buf- 
falo-beef, venison,  mountain  mutton,  turkey, 
grouse,  wild-fowl,  hares,  rabbits,  beaver  and  their 
tails,  &c.,  &c.,  the  station  assigned  to  dog  as  No. 
2  in  the  list  can  be  well  appreciated  —  No.  1,  in 
delicacy   of   flavor,   richness   of   meat,   and   other 


164<  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

good  qualities,  being  the  flesh  of  panthers,  which 
surpasses  every  other,  and  all  put  together.* 

"  Painter  meat  can't  '  shine  '  with  this,"  says 
a  hunter,  to  express  the  delicious  flavor  of  an 
extraordinary  cut  of  tenderloin  or  delicate 
fleece. 

La  Bonte  started  with  his  squaw  for  the  North 
Fork  early  in  November,  and  arrived  at  the  Lara- 
mie at  the  moment  that  the  big  village  of  the  Sioux 
came  up  for  their  winter  trade.  Two  other  vil- 
lages were  encamped  lower  down  the  Platte,  in- 
cluding the  Brules  and  the  Yanka-taus,  who  were 
now  on  more  friendly  terms  with  the  whites.  The 
first  band  numbered  several  hundred  lodges,  and 
presented  quite  an  imposing  appearance,  the  vil- 
lage being  laid  out  in  parallel  lines,  the  lodge  of 
each  chief  being  marked  with  his  particular  totem. 
The  traders  had  a  particular  portion  of  the  vil- 
lage allotted  to  them,  and  a  line  was  marked  out, 
which  was  strictly  kept  by  the  soldiers  appointed 
for  the  protection  of  the  whites.  As  there  were 
many  rival  traders,  and  numerous  coureurs  des 
hois,  or  peddling  ones,  the  market  promised  to  be 
brisk,  the  more  so  as  a  large  quantity  of  ardent 
spirits  was  in  their  possession,  which  would  be 
dealt  with  no  unsparing  hand  to  put  down  the 
opposition  of  so  many  competing  traders. 

In  opening  a  trade,  a  quantity  of  liquor  is  first 

*  The    excellence    of   panther   meat   is    praised   by   Hart 
Merriam  in  his  "Mammals  of  the  Adirondacks."     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  165 

given  "  on  the  prairie,"  *  as  the  Indians  express 
it  in  words,  or  by  signs  in  rubbing  the  palm  of  one 
hand  quickly  across  the  other,  holding  both  flat. 
Having  once  tasted  the  pernicious  liquid,  there  is 
no  fear  but  they  will  quickly  come  to  terms;  and 
not  unfrequently  the  spirit  is  drugged,  to  render 
the  unfortunate  Indians  still  more  helpless.  Some- 
times, maddened  and  infuriated  by  drink,  they  com- 
mit the  most  horrid  atrocities  on  each  other,  mur- 
dering and  mutilating  in  a  barbarous  manner,  and 
often  attempting  the  lives  of  the  traders  them- 
selves. On  one  occasion  a  band  of  Sioux,  whilst 
under  the  influence  of  liquor,  attacked  and  took 
possession  of  a  trading  fort  of  the  American  Fur 
Company,  stripping  it  of  everything  it  contained, 
and  roasting  the  trader  himself  over  his  own  fire. 

The  principle  on  which  the  nefarious  trade  is 
conducted  is  this, —  that  the  Indians,  possessing 
a  certain  quantity  of  buiFalo-robes,  have  to  be 
cheated  out  of  them,  and  the  sooner  the  better. 
Although  it  is  explicitly  prohibited  by  the  laws 
of  the  United  States  to  convey  spirits  across  the 
Indian  frontier,  and  its  introduction  amongst  the 
Indian  tribes  subjects  the  offender  to  a  heavy 
penalty,  yet  the  infraction  of  this  law  is  of  daily 
occurrence,  perpetrated  almost  in  the  very  pres- 
ence of  the  Government  officers,  who  are  stationed 
along  the  frontier  for  the  purpose  of  enforcing  the 
laws  for  the  protection  of  the  Indians. 

*"0n  the  prairie"  is  the  Indian  term  for  a  free  gift. 


166  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

The  misery  entailed  upon  these  unhappy  people 
by  the  illicit  traffic  must  be  seen  to  be  fully  appre- 
ciated. Before  the  effects  of  the  poisonous  "  fire- 
water," they  disappear  from  the  earth  like  snow 
before  the  sun.  Although  aware  of  the  destruction 
it  entails  upon  them,  the  poor  wretches  have  not 
moral  courage  to  shun  the  fatal  allurement  it 
holds  out  to  them  of  wild  excitement  and  a  tem- 
porary oblivion  of  their  many  sufferings  and  priva- 
tions. With  such  palpable  effects,  it  appears 
only  likely  that  the  illegal  trade  is  connived  at  by 
those  whose  policy  it  has  ever  been,  gradually,  but 
surely,  to  exterminate  the  Indians,  and  by  any 
means  to  extinguish  their  title  to  the  few  lands 
they  now  own  on  the  outskirts  of  civilization. 
Certain  it  is  that  large  quantities  of  liquor  find 
their  way  annually  into  the  Indian  country,  and 
as  certain  are  the  fatal  results  of  the  pernicious 
system,  and  that  the  American  Government  takes 
no  steps  to  prevent  it.*  There  are  some  tribes 
who  have  as  yet  withstood  the  great  temptation, 
and  have  resolutely  refused  to  permit  liquor  to 
be  brought  into  their  villages.  The  marked  dif- 
ference between  the  improved  condition  of  these, 
and  the  moral  and  physical  abasement  of  those 
which  give  way  to  the  fatal  passion  for  drinking, 

*  This  is  an  exaggeration.  The  laws  against  sale  of 
liquor  to  the  Indians  were  strict,  and  the  chief  difficulty  of 
the  fur  companies  was  to  evade  Government  agents  who 
searched  tlieir  outbound  cargoes  and  often  made  seizures. 
Still,  there  doubtless   was   much  collusion.     (^Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  167 

sufficiently  proves  the  pernicious  effects  of  the 
liquor-trade  on  the  unfortunate  and  abused  abo- 
rigines ;  and  it  is  matter  of  regret  that  no  philan- 
thropist has  sprung  up  in  the  United  States  to 
do  battle  for  the  rights  of  the  Red  Men,  and  call 
attention  to  the  wrongs  they  endure  at  the  hands 
of  their  supplanters  in  the  lands  of  their  fathers. 

Robbed  of  their  homes  and  hunting-grounds, 
and  driven  by  the  encroachments  of  the  whites  to 
distant  regions,  which  hardly  support  existence, 
the  Indians,  day  by  day,  gradually  decrease  be- 
fore the  accumulating  evils  of  body  and  soul, 
which  their  civilized  persecutors  entail  upon 
them.  With  every  man's  hand  against  them,  they 
drag  on  to  their  final  destiny ;  and  the  day  is  not 
far  distant  when  the  American  Indian  will  exist 
only  in  the  traditions  of  his  pale-faced  conquerors. 

The  Indians  trading  at  this  time  on  the  Platte 
were  mostly  of  the  Sioux  nation,  including  the 
tribes  of  Burnt-woods,  Yanka-taus,  Pian-Kashas, 
Assinaboins,  Oglallahs,  Broken  Arrows,  all  of 
which  belong  to  the  great  Sioux  nation,  or  La- 
cotahs,  as  they  call  themselves,  and  which  means 
Cut-throats.  There  were  also  some  Cheyennes 
allied  to  the  Sioux,  as  well  as  a  small  band  of 
Republican  Pawnees. 

Horse-racing,  gambling,  and  ball-play  ser^^ed 
to  pass  away  the  time  until  the  trade  commenced, 
and  many  packs  of  dressed  robes  changed  hands 
amongst  themselves.     When  playing  at  the  usual 


1681  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

game  of  "  hand,"  the  stakes,  comprising  all  the 
valuables  the  players  possess,  are  piled  in  two 
heaps  close  at  hand,  the  winner  at  the  conclusion 
of  the  game  sweeping  the  goods  towards  him,  and 
often  returning  a  small  portion  "  on  the  prairie," 
with  which  the  loser  may  again  commence  opera- 
tions with  another  player. 

The  game  of  "  hand  "  is  played  by  two  per- 
sons. One,  who  commences,  places  a  plum  or 
cherry  stone  in  the  hollow  formed  by  joining  the 
concaved  palms  of  the  hands  together;  then,  shak- 
ing the  stone  for  a  few  moments,  the  hands  are 
suddenly  separated,  and  the  other  player  must 
guess  which  hand  now  contains  the  stone. 

Large  bets  are  often  wagered  on  the  result  of 
this  favorite  game,  which  is  also  often  played  by 
the  squaws,  the  men  standing  round  encouraging 
them  to  bet,  and  laughing  loudly  at  their  gro- 
tesque excitement. 

A  Burnt-wood  Sionx,  Tah-tunganlsha,  one  of 
the  bravest  chiefs  of  his  tribe,  was  out,  when  a 
young  man,  on  a  solitary  war  exp€dition  against 
the  Crows.  One  evening  he  drew  near  a  certain 
*'  medicine  "  spring,  where,  to  his  astonishment,  he 
encountered  a  Crow  warrior  in  the  act  of  quench- 
ing his  thirst.  He  was  on  the  point  of  drawing 
his  bow  upon  him,  when  he  remembered  the  sacred 
nature  of  the  spot,  and  making  the  sign  of  peace, 
he  fearlessly  drew  near  his  foe,  and  proceeded 
likewise  to  slake  his  thirst.     A  pipe  of  kinnik- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  169 

kinnik  being  produced,  it  was  proposed  to  pass 
away  the  early  part  of  the  night  in  a  game  of 
"  hand."  They  accordingly  sat  down  beside  the 
spring  and  commenced  the  game. 

Fortune  favored  the  Crow.  He  won  arrow 
after  arrow  from  the  Burnt-wood  brave;  then  hia 
bow,  his  club,  his  knife,  his  robe,  all  followed,  and 
the  Sioux  sat  naked  on  the  plain.  Still  he  pro- 
posed another  stake  against  the  other's  winnings 
■ —  his  scalp.  He  played  and  lost ;  and  bending 
forward  his  head,  the  Crow  warrior  drew  his  knife 
and  quickly  removed  the  bleeding  prize.  With- 
out a  murmur  the  luckless  Sioux  rose  to  depart, 
but  first  exacted  a  promise  from  his  antagonist 
that  he  would  meet  him  once  more  at  the  same 
spot,  and  engage  in  another  trial  of  skill. 

On  the  day  appointed,  the  Burnt-wood  sought 
the  spot,  with  a  new  equipment,  and  again  the 
Crow  made  his  appearance,  and  they  sat  down  to 
play.  This  time  fortune  changed  sides;  the 
Sioux  won  back  his  former  losses,  and  in  his  turn 
the  Crow  was  stripped  to  his  skin. 

Scalp  against  scalp  was  now  the  stake,  and  this 
time  the  Crow  submitted  his  head  to  the  victo- 
rious Bumt-wood's  knife ;  and  both  the  warriors 
stood  scalpless  on  the  plain. 

And  now  the  Crow  had  but  one  single  stake  of 
value  to  offer,  and  the  offer  of  it  he  did  not  hesi- 
tate to  make.  He  staked  his  life  against  the 
other's  winnings.     They  played;  and  fortune  still 


170  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

being  adverse,  he  lost.  He  offered  his  breast  to 
liis  adversary.  The  Bumt-wood  plunged  his  knife 
into  his  heart  to  the  very  hilt;  and,  laden  with 
his  spoils,  returned  to  his  village,  and  to  this 
day  wears  suspended  from  his  ears  his  own  and 
his  enemy's  scalp. 

The  village  presented  the  usual  scene  of  con- 
fusion as  long  as  the  trade  lasted.  Fighting, 
brawling,  yelling,  dancing,  and  all  the  concomi- 
tants of  intoxication,  continued  to  the  last  drop 
of  the  liquor-keg,  when  the  reaction  after  such  ex- 
citement was  almost  worse  than  the  evil  itself. 
During  this  time  all  the  work  devolved  upon  the 
squaws,  who,  in  tending  the  horses,  and  in  pack- 
ing wood  and  water  from  a  long  distance,  had 
their  time  sufficiently  occupied.  As  there  was 
little  or  no  grass  in  the  vicinity,  the  animals  were 
supported  entirely  on  the  bark  of  the  cottonwood ; 
and  to  procure  this,  the  women  were  daily  en- 
gaged in  felling  huge  trees,  or  climbing  them  fear- 
lessly, chopping  off  the  upper  limbs  —  springing 
like  squirrels  from  branch  to  branch,  which,  in 
their  confined  costume,  appeared  matter  of  con- 
siderable difficulty. 

The  most  laughter-provoking  scenes,  however, 
were,  when  a  number  of  squaws  sallied  out  to  the 
grove  with  their  long-nosed  wolfish-looking  dogs 
harnessed  to  their  travees  *  or  trabogans,  on 
which  loads  of  cottonwood  were  piled.     The  dogs, 

*  Travois.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  171 

knowing  full  well  the  duty  required  of  them, 
refuse  to  approach  the  coaxing  squaws,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  are  fearful  of  provoking  their  an- 
ger by  escaping  and  running  off.  They,  there- 
fore, squat  on  their  haunches,  with  tongues  hang- 
ing out  of  their  long  mouths,  the  picture  of  in- 
decision, removing  a  short  distance  as  the  irate 
squaw  approaches.  When  once  harnessed  to  the 
travee,  however,  which  is  simply  a  couple  of  lodge- 
poles  lashed  on  either  side  of  the  dog,  with  a 
couple  of  cross-bars  near  the  ends  ta  support 
the  freight,  they  follow  quietly  enough,  urged  by 
bevies  of  children  who  invariably  accompany  the 
women.  Once  arrived  at  the  scene  of  their  labors, 
the  reluctance  of  the  curs  to  draw  near  the  piles 
of  Cottonwood  is  most  comical.  They  will  lie 
down  stubbornly  at  a  little  distance,  whining  their 
uneasiness,  or  sometimes  scamper  off  bodily,  with 
their  long  poles  trailing  after  them,  pursued  by 
the  yelling  and  half-frantic  squaws. 

When  the  travees  are  laden,  the  squaws,  bent 
double  under  loads  of  wood  sufficient  to  break  a 
porter's  back,  and  calling  to  the  dogs,  which  are 
urged  on  by  the  buffalo-fed  urchins  in  rear,  lead 
the  line  of  march.  The  curs,  taking  advantage 
of  the  helpless  state  of  their  mistresses,  turn  a 
deaf  ear  to  their  coaxings,  lying  down  every  few 
yards  to  rest,  growling  and  fighting  with  each 
other,  in  which  encounters  every  cur  joins  the 
melee,  charging  pell-mell  into  the  yelping  throng. 


172  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

upsetting  the  squalling  children,  and  making  con- 
fusion worse  confounded.  Then,  armed  with 
lodge-poles,  the  squaws,  throwing  down  their 
loads,  rush  to  the  rescue,  dealing  stalwart  blows 
on  the  pugnacious  curs,  and  finally  restoring  some- 
thing like  order  to  the  march. 

"  Tszoo  —  tszoo !  "  they  cry,  "  wah,  kashne, 
ceitcha  —  get  on,  you  devilish  beasts  —  tszoo  — • 
tszoo !  "  and  belaboring  them  without  mercy,  they 
start  them  into  a  gallop,  which,  once  commenced, 
is  generally  continued  till  they  reach  their  desti- 
nation. 

The  Indian  dogs  are,  however,  invariably  well 
treated  by  the  squaws,  since  they  assist  materially 
the  everyday  labors  of  these  patient  overworked 
creatures,  in  hauling  firewood  to  the  lodge,  and, 
on  the  line  of  march,  carrying  many  of  the  house- 
hold goods  and  chattels,  which  otherwise  the 
squaw  herself  would  have  to  carry  on  her  back. 
Every  lodge  possesses  from  half-a-dozen  to  a 
score, —  some  for  draught  and  others  for  eating 
—  for  dog-meat  forms  part  and  parcel  of  an 
Indian  feast.  The  former  are  stout  wiry  animals, 
half  wolf  half  sheep-dog,  and  are  regularly  trained 
to  draught;  the  latter  are  of  a  smaller  kind,  more 
inclined  to  fat,  and  embrace  every  variety  of  the 
genus  cur.  Many  of  the  southern  tribes  possess 
a  breed  of  dogs  entirely  divested  of  hair,  which 
evidently  have  come  from  South  America,  and  are 
highly  esteemed  for  the  kettle.     Their  meat,  in 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  173 

appearance  and  flavor,  resembles  young  pork,  but 
far  surpasses  it  in  richness  and  delicacy. 

The  Sioux  are  very  expert  in  making  their 
lodges  comfortable,  taking  more  pains  in  their 
construction  than  most  Indians.  They  are  all  of 
conical  form :  a  framework  of  straight  slender 
poles,  resembling  hop-poles,  and  from  twenty  to 
twenty-five  feet  long,  is  first  erected,  round  which 
is  stretched  a  sheeting  of  buffalo-robes,  softly 
dressed,  and  smoked  to  render  them  water-tight. 
The  apex,  through  which  the  ends  of  the  poles 
protrude,  is  left  open  to  allow  the  smoke  to  es- 
cape. A  small  opening,  sufficient  to  permit  the 
entrance  of  a  man,  is  made  on  one  side,  over 
which  is  hung  a  door  of  buffalo-hide.  A  lodge 
of  the  common  size  contains  about  twelve  or  four- 
teen skins,  and  contains  comfortably  a  family  of 
twelve  in  number.  The  fire  is  made  in  the  center, 
immediately  under  the  aperture  in  the  roof,  and 
a  flap  of  the  upper  skins  is  closed  or  extended  at 
pleasure,  serving  as  a  cowl  or  chimney-top  to 
regulate  the  draught  and  permit  the  smoke  to 
escape  freely.  Round  the  fire,  with  their  feet 
towards  it,  the  inmates  sleep  on  skins  and  buf- 
falo-rugs, which  are  rolled  up  during  the  day, 
and  stowed  at  the  back  of  the  lodge. 

In  traveling,  the  lodge-poles  are  secured  half 
on  each  side  a  horse,  and  the  skins  placed  on 
transversal  bars  near  the  ends,  which  trail  along 
the  ground  —  two    or  three   squaws   or   children 


174  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

mounted  on  the  same  horse,  or  the  smallest  of  the 
latter  borne  in  the  dog  travees.  A  set  of  lodge- 
poles  will  last  from  three  to  seven  years,  unless 
the  village  is  constantly  on  the  move,  when  they 
are  soon  worn  out  in  trailing  over  the  gravelly 
prairie.  They  are  usually  of  ash,  which  grows 
on  many  of  the  mountain  creeks,  and  regular  ex- 
peditions are  undertaken  when  a  supply  is  re- 
quired, either  for  their  own  lodges,  or  for  trading 
with  those  tribes  who  inhabit  the  prairies  at  a 
great  distance  from  the  locality  where  the  poles 
are  procured. 

There  are  also  certain  creeks  where  the  Indians 
resort  to  lay  in  a  store  of  kinnik-kinnik  (the  inner 
bark  of  the  red  willow),*  which  they  use  as  a 
substitute  for  tobacco,  and  which  has  an  aro- 
matic and  very  pungent  flavor.  It  is  prepared  for 
smoking  by  being  scraped  in  thin  curly  flakes  from 
the  slender  saplings,  and  crisped  before  the  fire, 
after  which  it  is  rubbed  between  the  hands,  into 
a  form  resembling  leaf-tobacco,  and  stored  in 
skin  bags  for  use.  It  has  a  highly  narcotic  ef- 
fect on  those  not  habituated  to  its  use,  and  pro- 
duces a  heaviness  sometimes  approaching  stupe- 
faction, altogether  different  from  the  soothing 
effects  of  tobacco. 

Every  year,  owing  to  the  disappearance  of  the 
buffalo  from  their  former  haunts,  the  Indians  are 
compelled  to  encroach  upon  each  other's  hunting- 

*  R-ed  osier  dogwood.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  175 

grounds,  which  is  a  fruitful  cause  of  war  between 
the  different  tribes.  It  is  a  curious  fact  that  the 
buffalo  retire  before  the  whites,  whilst  the  pres- 
ence of  Indians  in  their  pastures  appears  in  no 
degree  to  disturb  them.  Wherever  a  few  white 
hunters  are  congregated  in  a  trading  post,  or 
elsewhere,  so  sure  is  it  that,  if  they  remain  in  the 
same  locality,  the  buffalo  will  desert  the  vicinity, 
and  seek  pasture  elsewhere.  In  this,  the  Indians 
affirm,  the  wahkeitcha,  or  "  bad  medicine,"  of  the 
pale-faces  is  very  apparent ;  and  they  ground  upon 
it  their  well-founded  complaints  of  the  encroach- 
ments made  upon  their  hunting-grounds  by  the 
white  hunters. 

In  the  winter,  many  of  the  tribes  are  reduced 
to  the  very  verge  of  starvation  —  the  buffalo  hav- 
ing passed  from  their  country  into  that  of  their 
enemies ;  when  no  other  alternative  is  offered  them 
but  to  remain  where  they  are  and  starve,  or  to 
follow  the  game  into  a  hostile  region  —  a  move 
entailing  war  and  all  its  horrors. 

Reckless,  moreover,  of  the  future,  in  order  to 
prepare  robes  for  the  traders,  and  to  procure 
the  pernicious  fii'e-water,  they  wantonly  slaughter, 
every  year,  vast  numbers  of  buffalo  cows  (the 
skins  of  which  sex  only  are  dressed),  and  thus  add 
to  the  evils  in  store  for  them.  When  questioned 
on  this  subject,  and  reproached  with  such  want 
of  foresight,  they  answer,  that  however  quickly 
the  buffalo  disappears,  the  Red  Man  "goes  un- 


176  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

der  "  more  quickly  still ;  and  that  the  Great  Spirit 
has  ordained  that  both  shall  be  "  rubbed  out " 
from  the  face  of  nature  at  one  and  the  same  time, 
■ —  "  that  arrows  and  bullets  are  not  more  fatal 
to  the  buffalo  than  the  small-pox  and  fire-water 
to  them,  and  that  before  many  ^vinters'  snows  have 
disappeared,  the  buffalo  and  the  Red  Man  will 
only  be  remembered  by  their  bones,  which  will 
strew  the  plain*,"  "  They  look  forward,  how- 
ever, to  a  future  state,  when,  after  a  long  jour- 
ney, they  will  reach  the  happy  hunting-grounds, 
where  buffalo  will  once  more  blacken  the  prairies ; 
where  the  pale-faces  dare  not  come  to  disturb 
them ;  where  no  winter  snows  cover  the  ground, 
and  the  buffalo  arfe  always  plentiful  and  fat." 

As  soon  as  the  streams  opened.  La  Bonte,  now 
reduced  to  two  animals  and  four  traps,  sallied 
forth  again,  this  time  seeking  the  dangerous  coun- 
try of  the  Blackfeet,  on  the  head-waters  of  the 
Yellow  Stone  and  Upper  Missouri.  He  was  ac- 
companied by  three  others,  a  man  named  Wheeler, 
and  one  Cross-Eagle,  a  Swede,  who  had  been  many 
years  in  the  western  country.  Reaching  the 
forks  of  a  small  creek,  on  both  of  which  appeared 
plenty  of  beaver  sign.  La  Bonte  followed  the  left- 
hand  one  alone,  whilst  the  others  trapped  the 
right  in  company,  the  former  leaving  his  squaw 
in  the  company  of  a  Sioux  woman,  who  followed 
the  fortunes  of  Cross-Eagle,  the  party  agreeing 
to  rendezvous  at  the  junction  of  the  two  forks, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  177 

as  soon  as  they  had  trapped  to  their  heads  and 
again  descended  them.  The  larger  party  were 
the  first  to  reach  the  rendezvous,  and  camped  on 
the  banks  of  the  main  stream  to  await  the  arrival 
of  La  Bonte. 

The  morning  after  their  return,  they  had  just 
risen  from  their  blankets,  and  were  lazily  stretch- 
ing themselves  before  the  fire,  when  a  volley  of 
fireai-ms  rattled  from  the  bank  of  the  creek,  and 
two  of  their  number  fell  dead  to  the  ground,  whilst 
at  the  same  moment  the  deafening  j-ells  of  Indians 
broke  upon  the  ears  of  the  frightened  squaws. 
Cross-Eagle  seized  his  rifle,  and,  though  severely 
wounded,  rushed  to  the  cover  of  a  hollow  tree 
which  stood  near,  and  crawling  into  it,  defended 
himself  the  whole  day  with  the  greatest  obstinacy, 
killing  five  Indians  outright,  and  wounding  sev- 
eral more.  Unable  to  drive  the  gallant  trapper 
from  his  retreat,  the  savages  took  advantage  of 
a  favorable  wind  which  suddenly  sprang  up,  and 
fired  the  long  dry  grass  surrounding  the  tree. 
The  rotten  log  catching  fire,  at  length  compelled 
the  hunter  to  leave  his  retreat.  Clubbing  his 
rifle,  he  charged  amongst  the  Indians,  and  fell  at 
last,  pierced  through  and  through  with  wounds, 
but  not  until  two  more  of  his  assailants  had  fallen 
by  his  hand. 

The  two  squaws  were  carried  off',  and  one  was 
sold  shortly  afterwards  to  some  white  men  at  the 
trading  ports  ^  n  the  Platte ;  but  La  Bonte  never 


178  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

recovered  the  "  Bending  Reed,"  nor  even  heard  of 
her  existence  from  that  day.  So  once  more  was 
the  mountaineer  bereft  of  his  better  half;  and 
when  he  returned  to  the  rendezvous,  a  troop  of 
wolves  were  feasting  on  the  bodies  of  his  late  com- 
panions, and  of  the  Indians  killed  in  the  affray, 
of  which  he  only  heard  the  particulars  a  long  time 
after  from  a  trapper,  who  had  been  present  when 
one  of  the  squaws  was  offered  at  the  trading-post 
for  sale,  and  had  heard  her  recount  the  miserable 
fate  of  her  husband  and  his  companions  on  the 
forks  of  the  creek,  which,  from  the  fact  of  La 
Bonte  being  the  leader  of  the  party,  has  since 
borne  his  name. 

Undaunted  by  this  misfortune,  the  trapper  con- 
tinued his  solitary  hunt,  passing  through  the  midst 
of  the  Crow  and  Blackfeet  country ;  encountering 
many  perils,  often  hunted  by  the  Indians,  but  al- 
ways escaping.  He  had  soon  loaded  both  his  ani- 
mals with  beaver,  and  then  thought  of  bending 
his  steps  to  some  of  the  trading  rendezvous  on  the 
other  side  of  the  mountains,  where  employes  of 
the  Great  Northwest  Fur  Company  meet  the 
trappers  with  the  produce  of  their  hunts,  on 
Lewis's  fork  of  the  Columbia,  or  one  of  its  numer- 
ous affluents.  His  intention  was  to  pass  the  win- 
ter at  some  of  the  company's  trading-posts  in 
Oregon,  into  which  country  he  had  never  yet 
penetrated. 


CHAPTER  V 

WE  have  said  that  La  Bonte  was  a  philos- 
opher: he  took  the  streaks  of  ill  luck 
which  checkered  his  mountain  life  with 
perfect  carelessness,  if  not  with  stoical  indiffer- 
ence. Nothing  ruffled  his  danger-steeled  equanim- 
ity of  temper;  no  sudden  emotion  disturbed  his 
mind.  We  have  seen  how  wives  were  torn  from, 
him  without  eliciting  a  groan  or  grumble,  (but 
such  contretemps,  it  may  be  said,  can  scarcely 
find  a  place  in  the  category  of  ills)  ;  how  the  loss 
of  mules  and  mustangs,  harried  by  horse-stealing 
Indians,  left  him  in  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  mountain 
misery  —  afoot ;  how  packs  and  peltries,  the  hard- 
earned  beaver  of  his  perilous  hunts,  were 
"  raised  "  at  one  fell  swoop  by  freebooting  bands 
of  savages.  Hunger  and  thirst,  we  know,  were 
commonplace  sensations  to  the  mountaineer. 
His  storai-hardened  flesh  scarce  felt  the  pinging 
wounds  of  arrow-point  or  bullet ;  and  when  in  the 
midst  of  Indian  fight,  it  is  not  probable  that  any 
tender  qualms  of  feeling  would  allay  the  itching 
of  his  fingers  for  his  enem3^s  scalp-lock,  nor  would 
any  remains  of  civilized  fastidiousness  pre^'ent 
his  burying  his  knife  again  and  again  in  t^e  Hfe- 

blood  of  an  Indian  savage. 

179 


180  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Still,  in  one  dark  comer  of  his  heart,  there 
shone  at  intervals  a  faint  spark  of  what  was  once 
a  fiercely-burning-  fire.  Neither  time,  that  cor- 
roder  of  all  things,  nor  change,  that  ready  abettor 
of  oblivion,  nor  scenes  of  peril  and  excitement, 
which  act  as  dampers  to  more  quiet  memories, 
could  smother  this  little  smoldering  spark,  which 
now  and  again  —  when  rarely-coming  calm  suc- 
ceeded some  stirring  passage  in  the  hunter's  life, 
and  left  him,  for  a  brief  time,  devoid  of  care,  and 
victim  to  his  thoughts  —  would  flicker  suddenly, 
and  light  up  all  the  nooks  and  corners  of  his 
rugged  breast,  and  discover  to  his  mind's  eye  that 
one  deep-rooted  memory  clung  there  still,  though 
long  neglected ;  proving  that,  spite  of  time  and 
change,  of  life  and  fortune, 

"On  revient  tou jours  k  ses  premiers  amours." 

Often  and  often,  as  La  Bonte  sat  cross-legged 
before  his  solitary  camp-fire,  and,  pipe  in  mouth, 
watched  the  blue  smoke  curling  upwards  in  the 
clear  cold  sky,  a  well-remembered  form  appeared 
to  gaze  upon  him  from  the  vapory  wreaths. 
Then  would  old  recollections  crowd  before  him, 
and  old  emotions,  long  a  stranger  to  his  breast, 
shape  themselves,  as  it  were,  into  long-forgotten 
but  now  familiar  pulsations.  Again  he  felt  the 
soft  subduing  influence  which  once,  in  days  gone 
by,  a  certain  passion  exercised  over  his  mind  and 
body  r  and  often  a  trembling  seized  him,  the  same 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  181 

he  used  to  experience  at  the  sudden  sight  of  one 
Marj  Brand,  whose  dim  and  dreamy  apparition 
so  often  watched  his  lonely  bed,  or,  unconsciously 
conjured  up,  cheered  him  in  the  dreary  watches 
of  the  long  and  stormy  winter  nights. 

At  first  he  only  kneir  that  one  face  haunted  his 
dreams  by  night,  and  the  few  moments  by  day 
when  he  thought  of  anything,  and  this  face  smiled 
lovingly  upon  him  and  cheered  him  mightily. 
Name  he  had  quite  forgotten,  or  recalled  it 
vaguely,  and,  setting  small  store  by  it,  had 
thought  of  it  no  more. 

For  many  years  after  he  had  deserted  his  home, 
La  Bonte  had  cherished  the  idea  of  again  re- 
turning to  his  country.  During  this  period  he 
had  never  forgotten  his  old  flame,  and  many  a 
choice  fur  he  had  carefully  laid  by,  intended  as 
a  present  for  Mary  Brand;  and  many  a  gage 
d'amotLT  of  cunning  shape  and  device,  worked  in 
stained  quills  of  porcupine  and  bright-colored 
beads  —  the  handiwork  of  nimble-fingered  squaws 
—  he  had  packed  in  his  *'  possible  "  sack  for  the 
same  destination,  hoping  a  time  would  come  when 
he  might  lay  them  at  her  feet. 

Year  after  year  wore  on,  however,  and  still 
found  him,  with  traps  and  rifle,  following  his  peril- 
ous avocation ;  and  each  succeeding  one  saw  hira 
more  and  more  wedded  to  the  wild  mountain-life. 
He  was  conscious  how  unfitted  he  had  become 
again  to  enter  the  galling  harness  of  convention- 


182  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ality  and  civilization.  He  thought,  too,  how 
changed  in  manners  and  appearance  he  now  must 
be,  and  could  not  believe  that  he  would  again 
find  favor  in  the  ej'es  of  his  quondam  love,  who, 
he  judged,  had  long  since  forgotten  him;  and 
inexperienced  as  he  was  in  such  matters,  yet  he 
knew  enough  of  womankind  to  feel  assured  that 
time  and  absence  had  long  since  done  the  work,  if 
even  the  natural  fickleness  of  woman's  nature  had 
lain  dormant.  Thus  it  was  that  he  came  to  for- 
get Mary  Brand,  but  still  remembered  the  all- 
absorbing  feeling  she  had  once  created  in  his 
breast,  the  shadow  of  which  still  remained,  and 
often  took  form  and  feature  in  the  smoke-wreaths 
of  his  solitary  camp-fire. 

If  truth  be  told,  La  Bonte  had  his  failings  as 
a  mountaineer,  and  —  sin  unpardonable  in  hunter 
law  —  still  possessed,  in  holes  and  coniers  of  his 
breast  seldom  explored  by  his  inward  eye,  much 
of  the  leaven  of  kindly  human  nature,  which  now 
and  again  involuntarily  peeped  out,  as  greatly  to 
the  contempt  of  his  comrade  trappers  as  it  was 
blushingly  repressed  by  the  mountaineer  himself. 
Thus,  in  his  various  matrimonial  episodes,  he 
treated  his  dusky  sposa^  with  all  the  considera- 
tion the  sex  could  possibly  demand  from  hand  of 
man.  No  squaw  of  his  ever  humped  shoulder  to 
receive  a  castlgatory  and  martial  "  lodge-poling  " 
for  offense  domestic ;  but  often  has  his  helpmate 
blushed  to  see  her  pale-face  lord  and  master  de- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  183 

vote  himself  to  the  feminine  labor  of  packing  huge 
piles  of  firewood  on  his  back,  felling  trees,  butch- 
ering unwieldy  buffalo  —  all  which  are  included 
in  the  Indian  category  of  female  duties.  Thus 
he  was  esteemed  an  excellent  parti  b}'  all  the  mar- 
riageable young  squaws  of  Blackfoot,  Crow,  and 
Shoshone,  of  Yutah,  Shian,  and  Arapaho ;  but 
after  his  last  connubial  catastrophe,  he  steeled  his 
heart  against  all  the  charms  and  coquetry  of  In- 
dian belles,  and  persevered  in  unblessed  widow- 
hood for  many  a  long  day. 

From  the  point  where  we  left  him  on  his  way 
to  the  waters  of  the  Columbia,  we  must  jump  with 
him  over  a  space  of  nearly  two  years,  during  which 
time  he  had  a  mo«t  uninterrupted  run  of  good 
luck ;  trapping  with  great  success  on  the  head- 
streams  of  the  Columbia  and  Yellow  Stone  —  the 
most  dangerous  of  trapping-ground  —  and  find- 
ing good  market  for  his  peltries  at  the  North- 
West  posts  —  beaver  fetching  as  high  a  price  as 
five  and  six  dollars  a  "  plew  " —  the  "  golden  age  " 
of  trappers,  now,  alas !  never  to  return,  and  exist- 
ing only  in  the  fond  memory  of  the  mountaineers. 
This  glorious  time,  however,  was  too  good  to  last. 
In  mountain  language,  "  such  heap  of  fat  meat 
was  not  going  to  shine  much  longer." 

La  Bonte  was  at  this  time  one  of  a  band  of 
eight  trappers,  whose  hunting-ground  was  about 
the  head-waters  of  the  Yellow  Stone,  which  we 
have  before  said  is  in  the  country  of  the  Black- 


184  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

feet.  With  him  were  Killbuck,  Meek,  Marcelline, 
and  three  others ;  and  the  leader  of  the  party  was 
Bill  Williams,  that  old  "  hard  case "  who  had 
spent  forty  years  and  more  in  the  mountains,  un- 
til he  had  become  as  tough  as  the  parflcche  soles 
of  his  moccasins.  They  were  all  good  men  and 
true,  expert  hunters,  and  well-trained  mountain- 
eers. After  having  trapped  all  the  streams  they 
were  acquainted  with,  it  was  determined  to  strike 
into  the  mountains,  at  a  point  where  old  Williams 
affirmed,  from  the  run  of  the  hills,  there  must  be 
plenty  of  water,  although  not  one  of  the  party 
had  before  explored  the  country,  or  knew  any- 
thing of  its  nature,  or  of  the  likelihood  of  its  af- 
fording game  for  themselves  or  pasture  for  their 
animals.  However,  they  packed  their  peltry,  and 
put  out  for  the  land  in  view  —  a  lofty  peak,  dimly 
seen  above  the  more  regular  summit  of  the  chain, 
being  their  landmark. 

For  the  first  day  or  two  their  route  lay  between 
two  ridges  of  mountains,  and  by  following  the 
little  valley  which  skirted  a  creek,  they  kept  on 
level  ground,  and  saved  their  animals  considerable 
labor  and  fatigue.  Williams  always  rode  ahead, 
his  body  bent  over  his  saddle-hom,  across  which 
rested  a  long  heavy  rifle,  his  keen  gray  eyes  peer- 
ing from  under  the  slouched  brim  of  a  flexible 
felt-hat,  black  and  shining  with  grease.  His 
buckskin  hunting-shirt,  bedaubed  until  it  had  the 
appearance  of  polished  leather,  hung  in  folds  over 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  185 

his  bony  carcass ;  his  nether  extremities  being 
clothed  in  pantaloons  of  the  same  material  (with 
scattered  fringes  down  the  outside  of  the  leg  — 
which  ornaments,  however,  had  been  pretty  well 
thinned  to  supply  whangs  for  mending  moccasins 
or  pack-saddles),  which,  shrunk  with  wet,  clung 
tightly  to  his  long,  spare,  sinewy  legs.  His  feet 
were  thrust  into  a  pair  of  Mexican  stirrups  made 
of  wood,  and  as  big  as  coal-scuttles ;  and  iron 
spurs  of  incredible  proportions,  with  tinkling 
drops  attached  to  the  rowels,  were  fastened  to  his 
heel  —  a  bead-worked  strap,  four  inches  broad, 
securing  them  over  the  instep.  In  the  shoulder- 
belt,  which  sustained  his  powder-horn  and  bullet- 
pouch,  were  fastened  the  various  instruments  of 
one  pursuing  his  mode  of  life.  An  awl,  with  deer- 
hom  handle,  and  the  point  defended  by  a  case 
of  cherry-wood  carved  by  his  own  hand,  hung  at 
the  back  of  the  belt,  side  by  side  with  a  worm 
for  cleaning  the  rifle;  and  under  this  was  a  squat 
and  quaint-looking  bullet-mold,  the  handles 
guarded  by  strips  of  buckskin  to  save  his  fingers 
from  burning  when  running  balls,  having  for  its 
companion  a  little  bottle  made  from  the  point  of 
an  antelope's  horn,  scraped  transparent,  which 
contained  the  "  medicine "  used  in  baiting  the 
traps.  The  old  coon's  face  was  sharp  and  thin, 
a  long  nose  and  chin  hob-nobbing  each  other ;  and 
his  head  was  always  bent  forward,  giving  him  the 
appearance  of  being  hump-backed.     He  appeared 


186  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

to  look  neither  to  the  right  nor  left,  but,  in 
fact  his  little  twinkling  eye  was  everywhere.  He 
looked  at  no  one  he  was  addressing,  always  seem- 
ing to  be  thinking  of  something  else  than  the  sub- 
ject of  his  discourse,  speaking  in  a  whining,  thin, 
cracked  voice,  and  in  a  tone  that  left  the  hearer 
in  doubt  whether  he  was  laughing  or  crying.  On 
the  present  occasion  he  had  joined  this  band,  and 
naturally  assumed  the  leadership  (for  Bill  ever 
refused  to  go  in  harness),  in  opposition  to  his 
usual  practice,  which  was  to  hunt  alone.  His 
character  was  well  known.  Acquainted  with 
every  inch  of  the  Far  West,  and  with  all  the  In- 
dian tribes  who  inhabited  it,  he  never  failed  to 
outwit  his  red  enemies,  and  generally  made  his 
appearance  at  the  rendezvous,  from  his  solitary 
expeditions,  with  galore  of  beaver,  when  numerous 
bands  of  trappers  dropped  in  on  foot,  having 
been  despoiled  of  their  packs  and  animals  by  the 
very  Indians  through  the  midst  of  whom  old  Wil- 
liams had  contrived  to  pass  unseen  and  unmolested. 
On  occasions  when  he  had  been  in  company  with 
others,  and  attacked  by  Indians,  Bill  invariably 
fought  manfully,  and  with  all  the  coolness  that 
perfect  indifference  to  death  or  danger  could  give, 
but  always  "  on  his  own  hook."  His  rifle  cracked 
away  merrily,  and  never  spoke  in  vain ;  and  in  a 
charge  —  if  ever  it  came  to  that  —  his  keen- 
edged  butcher-knife  tickled  the  fleece  of  many  a 
Blackfoot.     But,  at  the  same  time,  if  he  saw  that 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  18T 

discretion  was  the  better  part  of  valor,  and  affairs 
wore  so  cloudy  an  aspect  as  to  render  retreat  ad- 
visable, he  would  first  express  his  opinion  in  curt 
terms,  and  decisively,  and,  charging  up  his  rifle, 
would  take  himself  off  and  cache  *  so  effectually 
that  to  search  for  him  was  utterly  useless.  Thus, 
when  with  a  large  party  of  trappers,  when  any- 
thing occurred  which  gave  him  a  hint  that  trouble 
was  coming,  or  more  Indians  were  about  than  he 
considered  good  for  his  animals.  Bill  was  wont 
to  exclaim  — 

"  Do  'ee  hyar  now,  boys,  thar's  sign  about? 
this  boss  feels  like  caching " ;  and  without  more 
words,  and  stoically  deaf  to  all  remonstrances, 
he  would  forthwith  proceed  to  pack  his  animals, 
talking  the  while  to  an  old  crop-eared  raw-boned 
Nez-perce  pony,  his  own  particular  saddle-horse, 
who  in  dogged  temper  and  iron  hardiness,  was  a 
worthy  companion  of  his  self-willed  master.  This 
beast,  as  Bill  seized  his  apisharaore  to  lay  upon 
its  galled  back,  would  express  displeasure  by 
humping  its  back  and  shaking  its  withers  with  a 
wincing  motion,  that  always  excited  the  ire  of 
the  old  trapper;  and  no  sooner  had  he  laid  the 
apishamore  smootlily  on  the  chafed  skin,  than  a 
wriggle  of  the  animal  shook  it  off. 

"Do  'ee  hyar  now,  you  darned  crittur?  "  he 
would  whine  out,  "  can't  'ee  keep  quiet  your  old 
fleece  now?     Isn't   tliis  old  coon  putting  out   to 

*  Hide  —  from  cacher. 


188  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

save  'ee  from  the  darned  Injuns  now,  do  'ee 
hyar?  "  And  then,  continuing  liis  work  and  tak- 
ing no  notice  of  his  comrades,  who  stood  by  ban- 
tering the  eccentric  old  trapper,  he  would  solilo- 
quize—  "Do  'ee  hyar  now?  This  nigger  sees 
sign  ahead  —  he  does !  he'll  be  afoot  afore  long, 
if  he  don't  keep  his  eye  skinned  —  he  will.  Itit 
juns  is  all  about,  they  are :  Blackfoot  at  that. 
Can't  come  round  this  child  —  they  can't,  wagh !  " 
And  at  last,  his  pack-animals  securely  tied  to  the 
tail  of  his  horse,  he  would  mount,  and  throwing 
the  rifle  across  the  horn  of  his  saddle,  and  with- 
out noticing  liis  companions,  would  drive  the 
jingling  spurs  into  his  horse's  gaunt  sides,  and 
muttering,  "  Can't  come  round  this  child  —  they 
can't !  "  would  ride  away ;  and  nothing  more  would 
be  seen  or  heard  of  him  perhaps  for  months, 
when  they  would  not  unfrequently,  themselves 
bereft  of  animals  in  the  scrape  he  had  foreseen, 
find  him  located  in  some  solitary  valley,  in  his 
lonely  camp,  with  his  animals  securely  picketed 
around,  and  his  peltries  safe. 

However,  if  he  took  it  into  his  head  to  keep 
company  with  a  party,  all  felt  perfectly  secure 
under  his  charge.  His  iron  frame  defied  fatigue, 
and  at  night,  his  love  for  himself  and  his  own 
animals  was  sufficient  guarantee  that  the  camp 
would  be  well  guarded.  As  he  rode  ahead,  his 
spurs  jingling  and  thumping  the  sides  of  his  old 
horse  at  every  step,  he  managed,  with  admirable 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  189 

dexterity,  to  take  advantage  of  the  best  line  of 
country  to  follow  —  avoiding  the  gullies  and 
canons  and  broken  ground,  which  would  other- 
wise have  impeded  his  advance.  This  tact  ap- 
peared instinctive,  for  he  looked  neither  right  nor 
left,  whilst  continuing  a  course  as  straight  as 
possible  at  the  foot  of  the  mountains.  In  select- 
ing a  camping-site  he  displayed  equal  skill :  wood, 
water,  and  grass  began  to  fill  his  thoughts  towards 
sundown ;  and  when  these  three  requisites  for  a 
camping-ground  presented  themselves,  old  Bill 
sprang  from  his  saddle,  unpacked  his  animals  in 
a  twinkling  and  hobbled  them,  struck  fire  and  ig- 
nited a  few  chips  (leaving  the  rest  to  pack  in  the 
wood),  lit  his  pipe,  and  enjoyed  himself. 

On  one  occasion,  when  passing  through  the 
valley,  they  had  come  upon  a  band  of  fine  buffalo 
cows,  and,  shortly  after  camping,  two  of  the  party 
rode  in  with  a  good  supply  of  fat  fleece.  One  of 
the  party  was  a  "  greenhorn  "  on  his  first  hunt, 
fresh  from  a  fort  on  Platte,  and  as  yet  uniniti- 
ated in  the  mysteries  of  mountain  cooking.  Bill, 
lazily  smoking  his  pipe,  called  to  him,  as  he  hap- 
pened to  be  nearest,  to  butcher  off  a  piece  of  meat 
and  put  it  in  his  pot.  Markhead  seized  the  fleece, 
and  commenced  innocently  carving  off  a  huge 
ration,  when  a  gasping  roar  from  the  old  trapper 
caused  him  to  drop  his  knife.  "  Ti-ya,"  growled 
Bill,  "  do  'ee  hyar,  now,  you  darned  greenhorn,  do 
'ee  spile  fat  cow  like  that  whar  you  was  raised  ."^ 


190  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Them  doins  won't  shine  in  this  crowd,  boy,  do 
'ee  hyar,  darn  you?  What!  butcher  meat  across 
the  grain !  why,  whar'll  the  blood  be  goin'  to,  you 
precious  Spaniard?  Down  the  grain,  I  say,"  he 
continued,  in  a  severe  tone  of  rebuke,  "  and  let 
your  flaps  be  long,  or  out  the  juice  '11  run  slick 
—  do  'ee  hyar,  now?"  But  this  heretical  error 
nearly  cost  the  old  trapper  his  appetite,  and  all 
night  long  he  grumbled  his  horror  at  seeing  "  fat 
cow  spiled  in  that  fashion." 

When  two  or  three  days'  journey  brought  them 
to  the  end  of  the  valley,  and  they  commenced  the 
passage  of  the  mountain,  their  march  was  ob- 
structed by  all  kinds  of  obstacles ;  although  they 
had  chosen  what  appeared  to  be  a  gap  in  the 
chain,  and  what  was  in  fact  the  only  practicable 
passage  in  that  vicinity.  They  followed  the  canon 
of  a  branch  of  the  Yellow  Stone,  where  it  entered 
the  mountain ;  but  from  this  point  it  became  a  tor- 
rent, and  it  was  only  by  dint  of  incredible  exer- 
tions that  they  reached  the  summit  of  the  ridge. 
Game  was  exceedingly  scarce  in  the  vicinity,  and 
they  suffered  extremely  from  hunger,  having,  on 
more  than  one  occasion,  recourse  to  the  parfleche 
soles  of  their  moccasins  to  allay  its  pangs.  Old 
Bill,  however,  never  grumbled ;  he  chewed  away 
at  liis  shoes  with  relish  even,  and  as  long  as  he  had 
a  pipeful  of  tobacco  in  his  pouch  was  a  happy 
man.  Starvation  was  as  yet  far  off,  for  all  their 
animals  were  in  existence;  but  as  they  were  in  a 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  191 

country  where  it  was  difficult  to  procure  a  re- 
mount, each  trapper  hesitated  to  sacrifice  one  of 
his  horses  to  his  appetite. 

From  the  summit  of  the  ridge,  Bill  recognized 
the  country  on  the  opposite  side  to  that  whence 
they  had  just  ascended  as  familiar  to  him,  and 
pronounced  it  to  be  full  of  beaver,  as  well  as 
abounding  in  the  less  desirable  commodity  of  In- 
dians. T?iis  was  the  valley  lying  about  the  lakes 
now  called  Eustis  and  Biddle,  in  which  are  many 
thermal  and  mineral  springs,  well  known  to  the 
trappers  by  the  names  of  the  Soda,  Beer,  and 
Brimstone  Springs,  and  regarded  by  them  with 
no  little  awe  and  curiosity,  as  being  the  breathing- 
places  of  his  Satanic  majesty  —  considered,  more- 
over, to  be  the  "  biggest  kind  "  of  "  medicine  "  to 
be  found  in  the  mountains.  If  truth  be  told,  old 
Bill  hardly  relished  the  idea  of  entering  this  coun- 
try, which  he  pronounced  to  be  of  "  bad  medicine  " 
notoriety,  but  nevertheless  agreed  to  guide  them  to 
the  best  trapping-ground. 

One  day  they  reached  a  creek  full  of  beaver- 
sign,  and  determined  to  halt  here  and  establish 
their  headquarters,  while  they  trapped  in  the 
neighborhood.  We  must  here  observe,  that  at 
this  period  —  which  was  one  of  considerable 
rivalry  amongst  the  various  trading  companies  in 
the  Indian  territory  —  the  Indians,  having  be- 
come possessed  of  arms  and  ammunition  in  great 
quantities,  had  grown  unusually  daring  and  perse- 


19a  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

vering  in  their  attacks  on  the  white  hunters  who 
passed  through  their  country,  and  consequently 
the  trappers  were  compelled  to  roam  about  in 
larger  bands  for  mutual  protection,  which,  al- 
though it  made  them  less  liable  to  open  attack, 
fet  rendered  it  more  difficult  for  them  to  pursue 
iheir  calling  without  being  discovered ;  for,  where 
one  or  two  men  might  pass  unseen,  the  broad  trail 
of  a  large  party,  with  its  animals,  was  not  likely 
to  escape  the  sharp  eyes  of  the  cunning  savages. 

They  had  scarcely  encamped  when  the  old  leader, 
who  had  sallied  out  a  short  distance  from  camp 
lo  reconnoiter  the  neighborhood,  returned  with 
fin  Indian  moccasin  in  his  hand,  and  informed 
his  companions  that  its  late  owner  and  others 
were  about. 

"  Do  'ee  hyar,  now,  boys.?  thar's  Injuns  knock- 
ing round,  and  Blackfoot  at  that;  but  thar's 
plenty  of  beaver  too,  and  this  child  means  trap- 
ping anyhow." 

His  companions  were  anxious  to  leave  such  dan- 
gerous vicinity ;  but  the  old  fellow,  contrary  to 
his  usual  caution,  determined  to  remain  where  he 
was  —  saying  that  there  were  Indians  all  over  the 
country,  for  that  matter;  and  as  they  had  deter- 
mined to  hunt  here,  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to 
• —  which  was  conclusive,  and  all  agreed  to  stop 
where  they  were,  in  spite  of  the  Indians.  La 
Bonte  killed  a  couple  of  mountain  sheep  close  to 
camp,  and  they  feasted  rarely  on  the  fat  mutton 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  193 

that  night,  and  were  unmolested  by  marauding 
Blackfeet. 

The  next  morning,  leaving  two  of  their  num- 
ber in  camp,  they  started  in  parties  of  two,  to 
hunt  for  beaver-sign  and  set  their  traps.  Mark- 
head  paired  with  one  Batiste,  Killbuck  and  La 
Bonte  formed  another  couple.  Meek  and  Marcelline 
another;  two  Canadians  trapped  together,  and 
Bill  Williams  and  another  remained  to  guard  the 
camp :  but  this  last,  leaving  Bill  mending  his  moc- 
casins, started  off  to  kill  a  mountain  sheep,  a  band 
of  which  animals  was  visible. 

Markhead  and  his  companion,  the  first  couple 
on  the  list,  followed  a  creek,  which  entered  that 
on  which  they  had  encamped,  about  ten  miles  dis- 
tant. Beaver  sign  was  abundant,  and  they  had 
set  eight  traps,  when  Markhead  came  suddenly 
upon  fresh  Indian  sign,  where  squaws  had  passed 
through  the  shrubbery  on  the  banks  of  the  stream 
to  procure  water,  as  he  knew  from  observing  a 
large  stone  placed  by  them  in  the  stream,  on 
which  to  stand  to  enable  them  to  dip  their  kettles 
in  the  deepest  water.  Beckoning  to  his  compan- 
ion to  follow,  and  cocking  his  rifle,  he  carefully 
pushed  aside  the  bushes,  and  noiselessly  proceeded 
up  the  bank,  when,  creeping  on  hands  and  knees, 
he  gained  the  top,  and,  looking  from  his  hiding- 
place,  descried  three  Indian  huts  standing  on  a 
little  plateau  near  the  creek.  Smoke  curled  from 
the  roofs  of  branches,  but  the  skin  doors  were  care- 


im  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

fully  closed,  so  that  he  was  unable  to  distinguish 
the  number  of  the  inmates.  At  a  little  distance, 
however,  he  observed  two  or  three  squaws  gather- 
ing wood,  with  the  usual  attendance  of  curs,  whose 
acuteness  in  detecting  the  scent  of  strangers  was 
much  to  be  dreaded. 

Markhead  was  a  rash  and  daring  young  fellow, 
caring  no  more  for  Indians  than  he  did  for  prairie 
dogs,  and  acting  ever  on  the  spur  of  the  moment, 
and  as  his  inclination  dictated,  regardless  of  con- 
sequences. He  at  once  determined  to  enter  the 
lodges,  and  attack  the  enemy  should  any  be  there ; 
and  the  other  trapper  was  fain  to  join  him  in  the 
enterprise.  The  lodges  proved  empty,  but  the 
fires  were  still  burning,  and  meat  cooking  upon 
them,  to  which  the  hungry  hunters  did  ample  jus- 
tice, besides  helping  themselves  to  whatever  goods 
and  chattels,  in  the  shape  of  leather  and  moc- 
casins, took  their  fancy. 

Gathering  their  spoil  into  a  bundle,  they  sought 
their  horses,  which  they  had  left  tied  under  cover 
of  the  timber  on  the  banks  of  the  creek ;  and, 
mounting,  took  the  back  trail,  to  pick  up  their 
traps  and  remove  from  so  dangerous  a  neighbor- 
hood. They  were  approaching  the  spot  where 
the  first  trap  was  set,  a  thick  growth  of  ash  and 
quaking-ash  concealing  the  stream,  when  Mark- 
head,  who  was  riding  ahead,  observed  the  bushes 
agitated,  as  if  some  animal  was  making  its  way 
through  them.     He  instantly  stopped  his  horse. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  196 

and  his  companion  rode  to  his  side,  to  inquire  the 
cause  of  this  abrupt  halt.  They  were  within  a 
few  yards  of  the  belt  of  shrubs  which  skirted  the 
stream;  and  before  Markhead  had  time  to  reply, 
a  dozen  swarthy  heads  and  shoulders  suddenly 
protruded  from  the  leafy  screen,  and  as  many 
rifle-barrels  and  arrows  were  pointing  at  their 
breasts.  Before  the  trappers  had  time  to  turn 
their  horses  and  fly,  a  cloud  of  smoke  burst  from 
the  thicket  almost  in  their  faces.  Batiste, 
pierced  with  several  balls,  fell  dead,  and  Mark- 
head  felt  himself  severely  wounded.  However,  he 
struck  the  spurs  into  his  horse;  and  as  some  half- 
score  Blackfeet  jumped  with  loud  cries  from  their 
cover,  he  discharged  his  rifle  amongst  them,  and 
galloped  off^,  a  volley  of  balls  and  arrows  whistling 
after  him.  He  drew  no  bit  until  he  reined  up  at 
the  camp-fire,  where  he  found  Bill  quietly  dressing 
a  deer-skin.  That  worthy  looked  up  from  his 
work;  and  seeing  Markhead's  face  streaming  with 
blood,  and  the  very  unequivocal  evidence  of  an  In- 
dian rencontre  in  the  shape  of  an  arrow  sticking 
in  his  back,  he  asked, — "  Do  'ee  feel  bad,  now,  boy.'' 
Whar  away  you  see  them  darned  Blackfoot.'' " 

"  Well,  pull  this  arrow  out  of  my  back,  and 
maybe  I'll  feel  like  telling,"  answered  Markhead. 

"  Do  'ee  hyar,  now.?  hold  on  till  I've  grained 
this  cussed  skin,  will  'ee?  Did  'ee  ever  see  sich 
a  darned  pelt,  now?  it  won't  take  the  smoke  any- 
how I  fix  it."     And  Markhead  was  fain  to  wait 


196  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

the  leisure  of  the  imperturbable  old  trapper,  be- 
fore he  was  eased  of  his  annoying  companion. 

Old  Bill  expressed  no  surprise  or  grief  when  in- 
formed of  the  fate  of  poor  Batiste.  He  said  it 
was  "just  like  greenhorns,  runnin'  into  them 
cussed  Blackfoot  " ;  and  observed  that  the  defunct 
trapper,  being  only  a  Vide  Poche,*  was  "  no  ac- 
count anyhow."  Presently  Killbuck  and  La, 
Bonte  galloped  into  camp,  with  another  alarm 
of  Indians.  They  had  also  been  attacked  sud- 
denly by  a  band  of  Blackfeet,  but,  being  in  a 
more  open  country,  had  got  clear  off,  after  killing 
two  of  their  assailants,  whose  scalps  hung  at  the 
horns  of  their  saddles.  They  had  been  in  a  dif- 
ferent direction  to  that  in  which  Markhead  and 
his  companion  had  proceeded,  and  from  the  signs 
they  had  observed,  expressed  their  belief  that  the 
country  was  alive  with  Indians.  Neither  of  these 
men  had  been  wounded.  Presently  the  two  Cana- 
dians made  their  appearance  on  the  bluff,  gallop- 
ing with  might  and  main  to  camp,  and  shouting 
"  Indians !  Indians !  "  as  they  came.  All  being 
assembled  and  a  council  held,  it  was  determined 
to  abandon  the  camp  and  neighborhood  immedi- 
ately. Old  Bill  was  already  packing  his  animals, 
and  as  he  pounded  the  saddle  down  on  the  withers 
of  his  old  Rosinante,  he  muttered  — "  Do  'ee  hyar, 
now?  this  coon  '11  cache,  he  will."  So  mounting 
his  horse,  and  leading  his  pack-mule  by  a  lariat, 
*  Carondelet  Creole.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  197 

he  bent  over  his  saddle-horn,  dug  his  ponderous 
rowels  into  the  lank  sides  of  his  beast,  and,  with- 
out a  word,  struck  up  the  bluff  and  disappeared. 

The  others,  hastily  gathering  up  their  packs, 
and  most  of  them  having  lost  their  traps,  quickly 
followed  his  example,  and  "  put  out."  On  crest- 
ing the  high  ground  which  rose  from  the  creek, 
they  observed  thin  columns  of  smoke  mounting 
into  the  air  from  many  different  points,  the  mean- 
ing of  which  they  were  at  no  loss  to  guess.  How- 
ever, they  were  careful  not  to  show  themselves 
on  elevated  ground,  keeping  as  much  as  possible 
under  the  banks  of  the  creek,  when  such  a  course 
was  practicable ;  but,  the  bluffs  sometimes  rising 
precipitously  from  the  water,  they  were  more  than 
once  compelled  to  ascend  the  banks,  and  continue 
their  course  along  the  uplands,  whence  they  might 
easily  be  discovered  by  the  Indians.  It  was 
nearly  sundown  when  they  left  their  camp,  but 
they  proceeded  during  the  greater  part  of  the 
night  at  as  rapid  a  rate  as  possible ;  their  prog- 
ress, however,  being  greatly  retarded  as  they  ad- 
vanced into  the  mountain,  their  route  lying  up 
stream.  Towards  morning  they  halted  for  a  brief 
space,  but  started  again  as  soon  as  daylight  per- 
mitted them  to  see  their  way  over  the  broken 
ground. 

The  creek  now  forced  its  way  through  a  narrow 
canon,  the  banks  being  thickly  clothed  with  a 
shrubbery  of  cottonwood  and  quaking-ash.     The 


198  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

mountain  rose  on  each  side,  but  not  abruptly,  be- 
ing here  and  there  broken  into  plateaus  and  shelv- 
ing prairies.  In  a  very  thick  bottom,  sprinkled 
with  coarse  grass,  they  halted  about  noon,  and  re- 
moved the  saddles  and  packs  from  their  wearied 
animals,  picketing  them  in  the  best  spots  of 
grass. 

La  Bonte  and  Killbuck,  after  securing  their 
animals,  left  the  camp  to  hunt,  for  they  had  no 
provisions  of  any  kind ;  and  a  short  distance  be- 
yond it,  the  former  came  suddenly  upon  a  recent 
moccasin-track  in  the  timber.  After  examining  it 
for  a  moment,  he  raised  his  head  with  a  broad  grin, 
and,  turning  to  his  companion,  pointed  into  the 
cover,  where,  in  the  thickest  part,  they  discerned 
the  well-known  figure  of  old  Bill's  horse,  browsing 
upon  the  cherry-bushes.  Pushing  through  the 
thicket  in  search  of  the  brute's  master.  La  Bonte 
suddenly  stopped  short  as  the  muzzle  of  a  rifle- 
barrel  gaped  before  his  eyes  at  the  distance  of  a 
few  inches,  whilst  the  thin  voice  of  Bill  muttered  — 

"  Do  'ee  hyar  now,  I  was  nigh  giving  'ee  h : 

I  was  now.  If  I  didn't  think  'ee  was  Blackfoot  I'm 
dogged  now."  And  not  a  little  indignant  was  the 
old  fellow  that  his  cache  had  been  so  easily  though 
accidentally  discovered.  However,  he  presently 
made  his  appearance  in  camp,  leading  his  animals 
and  once  more  joined  his  late  companions,  not 
deigning  to  give  any  explanation  as  to  why  or 
wherefore  he  had  deserted  them  the  day  before, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  199 

merely    muttering,    "  Do    'ee   hjar   now  ?     thar's 
trouble  comin'." 

The  two  hunters  returned  after  sundown  with 
a  black-tailed  deer;  and  after  eating  the  better 
part  of  the  meat,  and  setting  a  guard,  the  party 
were  glad  to  roll  in  their  blankets  and  enjoy  the 
rest  they  so  much  needed.  They  were  undisturbed 
during  the  night ;  but  at  dawn  of  day  the  sleepers 
were  roused  by  a  hundred  fierce  yells,  from  the 
mountains  enclosing  the  creek  on  which  they  had 
encamped.  The  yells  were  instantly  followed  by 
a  ringing  volley,  the  bullets  thudding  into  the 
trees,  and  cutting  the  branches  near  them,  but 
without  causing  any  mischief.  Old  Bill  rose  from 
his  blanket  and  shook  himself,  and  exclaimed 
"  Wagh !  "  as  at  that  moment  a  ball  plumped  into 
the  fire  over  which  he  was  standing,  and  knocked 
the  ashes  about  in  a  cloud.  All  the  mountaineers 
seized  their  rifles  and  sprang  to  cover;  but  as  yet 
it  was  not  sufficiently  light  to  show  them  their 
enemy,  the  bright  flashes  from  the  guns  alone  in- 
dicating their  position.  As  morning  dawned, 
however,  they  saw  that  both  sides  of  the  canon 
were  occupied  by  the  Indians  ;  and,  from  the  firing, 
judged  there  must  be  at  least  a  hundred  warriors 
engaged  in  the  attack.  Not  a  shot  had  yet  been 
fired  by  the  trappers,  but  as  the  light  increased, 
they  eagerly  watched  for  an  Indian  to  expose  him- 
self, and  offer  a  mark  to  their  trusty  rifles.  La 
Bonte,  Killbuck,  and  old  Bill,  lay  a  few  yards  dis-- 


200  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

tant  from  each  other,  flat  on  their  faces,  near  the 
edge  of  the  thicket,  their  rifles  raised  before  them, 
and  the  barrels  resting  in  the  forks  of  convenient 
bushes.  From  their  place  of  concealment  to  the 
position  of  the  Indians  —  who,  however,  were 
scattered  here  and  there,  wherever  a  rock  afl*orded 
them  cover  —  was  a  distance  of  about  150  yards, 
or  within  fair  rifle-shot.  The  trappers  were 
obliged  to  divide  their  force,  since  both  sides  of 
the  creek  were  occupied ;  but  such  was  the  nature 
of  the  ground,  and  the  excellent  cover  afforded  by 
the  rocks  and  bowlders,  and  clumps  of  dwarf  pine 
and  hemlock,  that  not  a  hand's-breadth  of  an  In- 
dian's body  had  yet  been  seen.  Nearly  opposite 
La  Bonte,  a  shelving  glade  in  the  mountain-side 
ended  in  an  abrupt  precipice,  and  at  the  very  edge, 
and  almost  toppling  over  it,  were  several  bowlders, 
just  of  sufficient  size  to  afford  cover  to  a  man's 
body.  As  this  bluff  overlooked  the  trappers' 
position,  it  was  occupied  by  the  Indians,  and  every 
rock  covered  an  assailant.  At  one  point,  just 
over  where  La  Bonte  and  Killbuck  were  lying,  two 
bowlders  lay  together,  with  just  sufficient  interval 
to  admit  a  rifle-barrel  between  them,  and  from 
this  breastwork  an  Indian  kept  up  a  most  annoy- 
ing fire.  All  his  shots  fell  in  dangerous  propin- 
quity to  one  or  other  of  the  trappers,  and  already 
Killbuck  had  been  grazed  by  one  better  directed 
than  the  others.  La  Bonte  watched  for  some 
time  in  vain  for  a  chance  to  answer  this  persever- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  201 

ing  marksman,  and  at  length  an  opportunity  of- 
fered, by  which  he  was  not  long  in  profiting. 

The  Indian,  as  the  light  increased,  was  better 
able  to  discern  his  mark,  and  fired,  and  yelled 
every  time  he  did  so,  with  redoubled  vigor.  In 
his  eagerness,  and  probably  whilst  in  the  act  of 
taking  aim,  he  leaned  too  heavily  against  the  rock 
which  covered  him,  and,  detaching  it  from  its  posi- 
tion, down  it  rolled  into  the  canon,  exposing  his 
body  by  its  fall.  At  the  same  instant,  a  wreath 
of  smoke  pufi*ed  from  the  bushes  which  concealed 
the  trappers,  and  the  crack  of  La  Bonte's  rifle 
spoke  the  first  word  of  reply  to  the  Indian  chal- 
lenge. A  few  feet  behind  the  rock  fell  the  dead 
body  of  the  Indian,  rolling  down  the  steep  sides  of 
the  canon,  and  only  stopped  by  a  bush  at  the  very 
bottom,  within  a  few  yards  of  the  spot  where 
Markhead  lay  concealed  in  some  high  grass. 

That  daring  fellow  instantly  jumped  from  his 
cover,  and  drawing  his  knife,  rushed  to  the  body, 
and  in  another  moment,  held  aloft  the  Indian's 
scalp,  giving,  at  the  same  time,  a  triumphant 
whoop.  A  score  of  rifles  were  leveled  and  dis- 
charged at  the  intrepid  mountaineer;  but  in  the 
act  many  Indians  incautiously  exposed  themselves, 
every  rifle  in  the  timber  cracked  simultaneously, 
and  for  each  report  an  Indian  bit  the  dust. 

Now,  however,  they  changed  their  tactics. 
Finding  they  were  unable  to  drive  the  trappers 
from  their  position,  they  retired  from  the  moun- 


203  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

tain,  and  the  firing  suddenly  ceased.  In  their 
retreat  they  were  forced  to  expose  themselves,  and 
again  the  whites  dealt  destruction  amongst  them. 
As  the  Indians  retired,  yelling  loudly,  the  hunters 
thought  they  had  given  up  the  contest;  but  pres- 
ently a  cloud  of  smoke  rising  from  the  bottom  im- 
mediately below  them,  at  once  discovered  the  na- 
ture of  their  plans.  A  brisk  wind  was  blowing  up 
the  canon ;  and,  favored  by  it,  they  fired  the  brush 
on  the  banks  of  the  stream,  knowing  that  before 
this  the  hunters  must  speedily  retreat. 

Against  such  a  result,  but  for  the  gale  of  wind 
which  drove  the  fire  roaring  before  it,  they  could 
have  provided  —  for  your  mountaineer  never  fails 
to  find  resources  on  a  pinch.  They  would  have  fired 
the  brush  to  leeward  of  their  position,  and  also 
carefully  ignited  that  to  windward,  or  between 
them  and  the  advancing  flame,  extinguishing  it 
Immediately  when  a  sufficient  space  had  thus  been 
cleared  over  which  the  flame  could  not  leap,  and 
thus  cutting  themselves  off  from  it  both  above  and 
below  their  position.  In  the  present  instance  they 
could  not  profit  by  such  a  course,  as  the  wind  was 
so  strong  that,  if  once  the  bottom  caught  fire, 
they  would  not  be  able  to  extinguish  it ;  besides 
which,  in  the  attempt,  they  would  so  expose  them- 
selves that  they  would  be  picked  off  by  the  In- 
dians without  difficulty.  As  it  was,  the  fire  came 
roaring  b«?fore  the  wind  with  the  speed  of  a  race- 
horse, ar  1,  spreading  from  the  bottom,  licked  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  ^03 

mountain-sides,  the  dry  grass  burning  like  tinder. 
Huge  volumes  of  stifling  smoke  rolled  before  it> 
and  in  a  very  few  minutes  the  trappers  were 
hastily  mounting  their  animals,  driving  the  packed 
ones  before  them.  The  dense  clouds  of  smoke  con- 
cealed everything  from  their  view,  and,  to  avoid 
this,  they  broke  from  the  creek  and  galloped  up 
the  sides  of  the  canon  on  to  the  more  level  plateau. 
As  they  attained  this,  a  band  of  mounted  Indians 
charged  them.  One,  waving  a  red  blanket,  dashed 
through  the  cavallada,  and  was  instantly  followed 
by  all  the  loose  animals  of  the  trappers,  the  rest  of 
the  Indians  pursuing  with  loud  shouts.  So  sud- 
den was  the  charge,  that  the  whites  had  not  power 
to  prevent  the  stampede.  Old  Bill,  as  usual,  led 
his  pack-mules  by  the  lariat ;  but  the  animals,  mad 
with  terror  at  the  shouts  of  the  Indians,  broke 
from  him,  nearly  pulling  him  out  of  his  seat  at 
the  same  time.  To  cover  the  retreat  of  the  others 
with  theii*  prey,  a  band  of  mounted  Indians  now 
appeared,  threatening  an  attack  in  front,  whilst 
their  first  assailants,  rushing  from  the  bottom,  at 
least  a  hundred  strong,  assaulted  in  rear.  "  Do 
'ee  hyar,  boys  ? "  shouted  old  Bill,  "  break,  or 
you'll  go  under.  This  child's  goin'  to  cache ! " 
and  saying  the  word,  off  he  went.  Sauve  qui  peut 
was  the  order  of  the  day,  and  not  a  moment  too 
soon,  for  overwhelming  numbers  were  charging 
upon  them,  and  the  mountain  resounded  with  sav- 
age yell&.     La  Bonte  and  Killbuek  stuck  together: 


a04.  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

they  saw  old  Bill,  bending  over  his  saddle,  dive 
right  into  the  cloud  of  smoke,  and  apparently 
make  for  the  creek  bottom  —  their  other  com- 
panions scattering  each  on  his  own  hook,  and  saw 
no  more  of  them  for  many  a  month;  and  thus  was 
one  of  the  most  daring  and  successful  bands 
broken  up  that  ever  trapped  in  the  mountains  of 
the  Far  West. 

It  is  painful  to  follow  the  steps  of  the  poor  fel- 
lows who,  thus  despoiled  of  the  hardly-earned 
produce  of  their  hunt,  saw  all  their  wealth  torn 
from  them  at  one  swoop.  The  two  Canadians 
were  killed  upon  the  night  succeeding  that  of  the 
attack.  Worn  with  fatigue,  hungry  and  cold, 
they  had  built  a  fire  in  what  they  thought  was  a 
secure  retreat,  and,  rolled  in  their  blankets,  were 
soon  buried  ir:  a  sleep  from  which  they  never 
awoke.  An  Indian  boy  tracked  them,  and 
watched  their  camp.  Burning  with  the  idea  of 
signalizing  himself  thus  early,  he  awaited  his  op- 
portunity, and  noiselessly  approaching  their  rest- 
ing-place, shot  them  both  with  arrows,  and  re- 
turned in  triumph  to  his  people  with  their  horses 
and  scalps. 

La  Bonte  and  Killbuck  sought  a  passage  in  the 
mountain  by  which  to  cross  over  to  the  head- 
waters of  the  Columbia,  and  there  fall  in  with 
some  of  the  traders  or  trappers  of  the  North- 
West.  They  became  involved  in  the  mountains, 
Ka  a  part  where  was  no  game  of  any  description, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  205 

and  no  pasture  for  their  miserable  animals.  One 
of  these  they  killed  for  food ;  the  other,  a  bag  of 
bones,  died  from  sheer  starvation.  They  had  very 
little  ammunition,  their  moccasins  were  worn  out, 
and  they  were  unable  to  procure  skins  to  supply 
themselves  with  fresh  ones.  Winter  was  fast  ap- 
proaching; the  snow  already  covered  the  moun- 
tains ;  and  storms  of  sleet  and  hail  poured  inces- 
santly through  the  valleys,  benumbing  their  ex- 
hausted limbs,  hardly  protected  by  scanty  and 
ragged  covering.  To  add  to  their  miseries,  poor 
Killbuck  was  taken  ill.  He  had  been  wounded  in 
the  groin  by  a  bullet  some  time  before,  and  the 
ball  still  remained.  The  wound,  aggravated  by 
walking  and  the  excessive  cold,  assumed  an  ugly 
appearance,  and  soon  rendered  him  incapable  of 
sustained  exertion,  all  motion  even  being  attended 
with  intolerable  pain.  La  Bonte  had  made  a 
shanty  for  his  suffering  companion,  and  spread  a 
soft  bed  of  pine  branches  for  him,  by  the  side  of  a 
small  creek  at  the  point  where  it  came  out  of  the 
mountain  and  followed  its  course  through  a  little 
prairie.  They  had  been  three  days  without  other 
food  than  a  piece  of  parfleche,  which  had  formed 
the  back  of  La  Bonte's  bullet-pouch,  and  which, 
after  soaking  in  the  creek,  they  eagerly  devoured. 
Killbuck  was  unable  to  move,  and  sinking  fast 
from  exhaustion.  His  companion  had  hunted 
from  morning  till  night,  as  well  as  his  failing; 
strength  would  allow  him,  but  had  not  seen  the 


^06  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

traces  of  any  kind  of  game,  with  the  exception 
of  some  old  buffalo-tracks,  made  apparently 
months  before  by  a  band  of  bulls  crossing  the 
mountain. 

The  morning  of  the  fourth  day.  La  Bonte  as 
usual  rose  at  daybreak  from  his  blanket,  and  was 
proceeding  to  collect  woo<i  for  the  fire  during  his 
absence  while  hunting,  Avhen  Killbuck  called  to 
him,  and  in  an  almost  inarticulate  voice  desired 
him  to  seat  himself  by  his  side. 

"  Boy,"  he  said,  "  this  old  boss  feels  like  goin' 
under,  and  that  afore  long.  You're  stout  yet, 
and  if  thar  was  meat  handy,  you'd  come  round 
slick.  Now,  boy,  I'll  be  under,  as  I  said,  afore 
many  hours,  and  if  you  don't  raise  meat  you'll  be 
in  the  same  fix.  I  never  eat  dead  meat  *  myself, 
and  wouldn't  ask  no  one  to  do  it  neither ;  but  meat 
fair  killed  is  meat  any  way ;  so,  boy,  put  your 
knife  in  this  old  nigger's  lights,  and  help  yourself. 
It's  *  poor  bull,'  I  know,  but  maybe  it'll  d"o  to  keep 
life  in ;  and  along  the  fleece  thar's  meat  yet,  and 
maybe  my  old  hump-ribs  has  picking  on  'em." 

**  You're  a  good  old  boss,"  answered  La  Bonte, 
**l)nt  this  child  ain't  turned  nigger  yet." 

Xillbuck  then  begged  his  companion  to  leave 
him  to  his  fate,  and  strive  himself  to  reach  game; 
but  this  alternative  La  Bonte  likewise  generously 
refusetl\,  and,  faintly  endeavoring  to  cheer  the  sick 
man,  left  him  once  again  to  look  for  game.  He 
*  Carrion. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  907 

was  so  weak  that  he  felt  difficulty  in  supporting 
himself;  and  knowing  how  futile  would  be  his  at- 
tempts to  hunt,  he  sallied  from  the  camp,  con- 
vinced that  a  few  hours  more  would  see  the  last  of 
him. 

He  had  scarcely  raised  his  eyes,  when,  hardly 
crediting  his  senses,  he  saw  within  a  few  hundred 
yards  of  him  an  old  bull,  worn  with  age,  lying  on 
the  prairie.  Two  wolves  were  seated  on  their 
haunches  before  him,  their  tongues  lolling  from 
their  mouths,  whilst  the  buffalo  was  impotently 
rolling  his  ponderous  head  from  side  to  side,  his 
bloodshot  eyes  glaring  fiercely  at  his  tormentors, 
and  flakes  of  foam,  mixed  with  blood,  dropping 
from  his  mouth  over  his  long  shaggy  beard.  La 
Bonte  was  transfixed ;  he  scarcely  dared  to 
breathe,  lest  the  animal  should  be  alarmed  and  es- 
cape. Weak  as  it  was,  he  could  hardly  have  fol- 
lowed it,  and,  knowing  that  his  own  and  compan- 
ion's life  hung  upon  the  success  of  his  shot,  he 
scarcely  had  strength  to  raise  his  rifle.  By  dint 
of  extraordinary  exertions  and  precautions  — 
which  were  totally  unecessary,  for  the  poor  old 
bull  had  not  a  move  in  him  —  the  hunter  ap- 
proached within  shot.  Lying  upon  the  ground, 
he  took  a  long  steady  aim,  and  fired.  The  buf- 
falo raised  its  matted  head,  tossed  it  wildly  for 
an  instant,  and,  stretching  out  its  limbs  convul- 
sively, turned  over  on  its  side  and  was  dead. 

Killbuck   heard   the   shot,    and,    crawling   from 


208  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

under  the  little  shanty  which  covered  his  bed,  saw, 
to  his  astonishment,  La  Bonte  in  the  act  of  butch- 
ering a  buffalo  within  two  hundred  yards  of  camp. 
"  Hurraw  for  you !  "  he  faintly  exclaimed ;  and  ex- 
hausted by  the  exertion  he  had  used,  and  perhaps 
by  the  excitement  of  an  anticipated  feast,  fell  back 
and  fainted. 

However,  the  killing  was  the  easiest  matter,  for 
when  the  huge  carcass  lay  dead  upon  the  ground, 
our  hunter  had  hardly  strength  to  drive  the  blade 
of  his  knife  through  the  tough  hide  of  the  old 
patriarch.  Then,  having  cut  off  as  much  of  the' 
meat  as  he  could  carry,  eating  the  while  sundry 
portions  of  the  liver,  which  he  dipped  in  the  gall- 
bladder by  way  of  relish.  La  Bonte  cast  a  wistful 
look  upon  the  half-starved  wolves,  who  now  loped 
round  and  round,  licking  their  chops,  only  waiting 
until  his  back  was  turned  to  fall  to  with  appetite 
equal  to  his  own,  and  capabilities  of  swallowing 
and  digesting  far  superior.  La  Bonte  looked  at 
the  buffalo  and  then  at  the  wolves,  leveled  his 
rifle  and  shot  one  dead,  at  which  the  survivor 
scampered  off  without  delay. 

Arrived  at  camp,  packing  in  a  tolerable  load  of 
the  best  part  of  the  animal  —  for  hunger  lent  him 
strength  —  he  found  poor  Killbuck  lying  on  his 
back,  deaf  to  time,  and  to  all  appearance  gone 
under.  Having  no  sal-volatile  or  vinaigrette  at 
hand.  La  Bonte  flapped  a  lump  of  raw  fleece  into 
his  patient's  face,  and  this  instantly  revived  him. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  209 

Then  taking  the  sick  man's  shoulder,  he  raised  him 
tenderly  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  invited,  in 
kindly  accents,  "  the  old  hoss  to  feed,"  thrusting 
at  the  same  time  a  tolerable  slice  of  liver  into  his 
hand,  which  the  patient  looked  at  wistfully  and 
vaguely  for  a  few  short  moments,  and  then 
greedily  devoured.  It  was  nightfall  by  the  time 
that  La  Bonte,  assisted  by  many  intervals  of  hard 
eating,  packed  in  the  lasb  of  the  meat,  which 
formed  a  goodly  pile  around  the  fire. 

"  Poor  bull  "  it  was,  in  all  conscience:  the  labor 
of  chewing  a  mouthful  of  the  tenderloin  was  equal 
to  a  hard  day's  hunt;  but  to  them,  poor  starved 
fellows,  it  appeared  the  richest  of  meat.  They 
still  preserved  a  small  tin  pot,  and  in  this,  by 
stress  of  eternal  boiling.  La  Bonte  contrived  to 
make  some  strong  soup,  which  soon  restored  his 
sick  companion  to  marching  order.  For  himself, 
as  soon  as  a  good  meal  had  filled  him,  he  was  strong 
as  ever,  and  employed  himself  in  drying  the  re- 
mainder of  the  meat  for  future  use.  Even  the 
wolf,  bony  as  he  was,  was  converted  into  meat,  and 
rationed  them  several  days.  Winter,  however, 
had  set  in  with  such  severity,  and  Killbuck  was 
still  so  weak,  that  La  Bonte  determined  to  remain 
in  his  present  position  until  spring,  as  he  now 
found  that  buffalo  frequently  visited  the  valley,  as 
it  was  more  bare  of  snow  than  the  lowlands,  and 
afforded  them  better  pasture ;  and  one  morning  he 
Wd  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  a  band  of  seventeen 


210  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

bulls  within  long  rifle-shot  of  the  camp,  out  of 
which  four  of  the  fattest  were  soon  laid  low  by  his 
rifle. 

They  still  had  hard  times  before  them,  for  to- 
wards spring  the  buff'alo  again  disappeared ;  the 
greater  part  of  their  meat  had  been  spoiled,  ow- 
ing to  there  not  being  sufficient  sun  to  dry  it  thor- 
oughly;  and  when  they  resumed  their  journey  they 
had  nothing  to  carry  with  them,  and  had  a  desert 
before  them  without  game  of  any  kind.  We  pass 
over  what  they  suffered.  Hunger  and  thirst  were 
their  portion,  and  Indians  assaulted  them  at  times, 
and  many  miraculous  and  hair-breadth  escapes 
they  had  from  these  enemies. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  trail  to  Oregon,  followed  by  traders  and 
emigrants,  crosses  the  Rocky  Mountains  at 
a  point  known  as  the  South  Pass,  where  a 
break  in  the  chain  occurs  of  such  moderate  and 
gradual  elevation  as  to  permit  the  passage  of 
wagons  with  tolerable  facility.  The  Sweetwater 
Valley  runs  nearly  to  the  point  where  the  divid- 
ing ridge  of  the  Pacific  and  Atlantic  waters  throws 
off  its  streams  to  their  respective  oceans.  At  one 
end  of  this  valley,  and  situated  on  the  right  bank 
of  the  Sweetwater,  a  huge  isolated  mass  of 
granitic  rock  rises  to  the  height  of  three  hundred 
feet  abruptly  from  the  plain.*  On  the  smooth 
and  scarped  surface  presented  by  one  of  its  sides, 
are  rudely  carved  the  names  and  initials  of 
traders,  trappers,  travelers,  and  emigrants,  who 
have  here  recorded  the  memorial  of  their  sojourn 
in  the  remote  wilderness  of  the  Far  West.  The 
face  of  the  rock  is  covered  with  names  familiar  to 
the  mountaineers  as  those  of  the  most  renowned 
of  their  hardy  brotherhood;  while  others,  again, 
occur,  better  known  to  the  science  and  literature 

*  Independence  Rock.     (Ed.) 
211 


212  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

of  the  Old  World  than  to  the  unlearned  trappers 
of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  huge  mass  is  a 
well-known  landmark  to  the  Indians  and  moun- 
taineers ;  and  travelers  and  emigrants  hail  it  as 
the  halfway  beacon  between  the  frontiers  of  the 
United  States  and  the  still  distant  goal  of  their 
long  and  perilous  journey. 

It  was  a  hot  sultry  day  in  July.  Not  a  breath 
of  air  relieved  the  intense  and  oppressive  heat  of 
the  atmosphere,  unusual  here,  where  pleasant  sum- 
mer breezes,  and  sometimes  stronger  gales,  blow 
over  the  elevated  plains  with  the  regularity  of 
trade-winds.  The  sun,  at  its  meridian  height, 
struck  the  dry  sandy  plain,  and  parched  the 
drooping  buffalo-grass  on  its  surface ;  and  its  rays, 
refracted  and  reverberating  from  the  heated 
ground,  distorted  every  object  seen  through  its 
lurid  medium.  Straggling  antelope,  leisurely 
crossing  the  adjoining  prairie,  appeared  to  be 
gracefully  moving  in  mid-air;  whilst  a  scattered 
band  of  buffalo  bulls  loomed  huge  and  indistinct 
in  the  vapory  distance.  In  the  timbered  valley  of 
the  river,  deer  and  elk  were  standing  motionless 
in  the  water,  under  the  shade  of  the  overhanging 
cottonwoods,  seeking  a  respite  from  the  persever- 
ing attacks  of  swarms  of  horse-flies  and  mos- 
quitoes ;  and  now  and  then  a  heavy  splash  was 
heard,  as  they  tossed  their  antlered  heads  into  the 
stream,  to  free  them  from  tlie  venomous  insects 
that  buzzed  incessantly  about  them.     In  the  sandy 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  213 

prairie,  beetles  of  an  enormous  size  were  rolling 
in  every  direction  huge  balls  of  earth,  pushing 
them  with  their  hind  legs  with  comical  persever- 
ance; chameleons  darted  about,  assimilating  the 
hue  of  their  grotesque  bodies  with  the  color  of  the 
sand:  groups  of  prairie-dog  houses  were  seen,  each 
with  its  inmate  barking  lustily  on  the  roof ;  whilst 
under  cover  of  nearly  every  bush  of  sage  or  cactus 
a  rattlesnake  lay  glittering  in  lazy  coil.  Tanta- 
lizing the  parched  sight,  the  neighboring  peaks 
of  the  lofty  Wind  River  Mountains  glittered  in  a 
mantle  of  sparkling  snow;  whilst  Sweetwater 
Mountain,  capped  in  cloud,  looked  gray  and  cool, 
in  striking  contrast  to  the  bumed-up  plains  which 
lay  basking  at  its  foot. 

Resting  their  backs  against  the  rock  (on  which, 
we  have  said,  are  now  carved  the  names  of  many 
travelers),  and  defended  from  the  powerful  rays 
of  the  sun  by  its  precipitous  sides,  two  white  men 
quietly  slept.  They  were  gaunt  and  lantern- 
jawed,  and  clothed  in  tattered  buckskin.  Each 
held  a  rifle  across  his  knees,  but  —  strange  sight 
in  this  country  —  one  had  its  pan  thrown  open, 
which  was  rust-eaten  and  contained  no  priming; 
the  other's  hammer  was  without  a  flint.  Their 
faces  were  as  if  covered  with  mahogany-colored 
parchment ;  their  eyes  were  sunken ;  and  as  their 
jaws  fell  listlessly  on  their  breasts,  their  cheeks 
were  hollow,  with  the  bones  nearly  protruding 
from  the  skin.     One  was  in  the  prime  of  manhood, 


214  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

with  handsome  features ;  the  other,  considerably 
past  middle  age,  was  stark  and  stern.  Months 
of  dire  privation  had  brought  them  to  this  pass. 
The  elder  of  the  two  was  Killbuck,  of  mountain 
fame ;  the  other  was  hight  La  Bonte. 

The  former  opened  his  eyes,  and  saw  the 
buffalo  feeding  on  the  plain.  "  Ho,  bo}',"  he 
said,  touching  his  companion,  "  thar's  meat  a-run- 
nin'." 

La  Bonte  looked  in  the  direction  the  other 
pointed,  stood  up,  and  hitching  round  his  pouch 
and  powder-horn,  drew  the  stopper  from  the  lat- 
ter with  his  teeth,  and  placing  the  mouth  in  the 
palm  of  his  left  hand,  turned  the  horn  up  and 
shook  it. 

"  Not  a  grain,"  he  said  — "  not  a  grain,  old 
hoss." 

"  Wagh !  "  exclaimed  the  other,  "  we'll  have  to 
eat  afore  long," —  and  rising,  walked  into  the 
prairie.  He  had  hardly  stepped  two  paces,  when, 
passing  close  to  a  sage-bush,  a  rattlesnake  whizzed 
a  note  of  warning  with  its  tail.  Killbuck  grinned, 
and  taking  the  wiping-stick  from  his  rifle-barrel, 
tapped  the  snake  on  the  head,  and  taking  it  by  the 
tail,  threw  it  to  La  Bonte,  saying,  *'  hyar's  meat, 
anyhow."  The  old  fellow  followed  up  his  success 
by  slaying  half-a-dozen  more,  and  brought  them 
in  skewered  through  the  head  on  his  wiping-stick. 
A  fire  was  soon  kindled,  and  the  snakes  roasting 
before  it ;  when  La  Bonte,  who  sat  looking  at  buf- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  215 

falo  which  fed  close  to  the  rock,  suddenly  saw  them 
raise  their  heads,  snuff  the  air,  and  scamper  to- 
wards him.  A  few  minutes  afterwards,  a  huge 
shapeless  body  loomed  in  the  refracted  air,  ap- 
proaching the  spot  where  the  buffalo  had  been 
grazing.  The  hunters  looked  at  it  and  then  at 
each  other,  and  ejaculated  "Wagh!"  Presently 
a  long  white  mass  showed  more  distinctly,  followed 
by  another,  and  before  each  was  a  string  of  ani- 
mals. 

"  Wagons,  by  boss  and  beaver !  Hurrah  for 
Conestoga !  "  exclaimed  the  trappers  in  a  breath, 
as  they  now  observed  two  white-tilted  wagons, 
drawn  by  several  pairs  of  mules,  approaching  the 
very  spot  where  they  sat.  Several  mounted  men 
were  riding  about  the  wagons,  and  two  on  horse- 
back, in  advance  of  all,  were  approaching  the  rock, 
when  they  observed  the  smoke  curling  from  the 
hunters'  fire.  They  halted  at  sight  of  this ;  and 
one  of  the  two,  drawing  a  long  instrument  from  a 
case,  which  Killbuck  voted  a  rifle,  directed  it  to- 
wards them  for  a  moment,  and  then  lowering  it, 
again  moved  forward. 

As  they  drew  near,  the  two  poor  trappers,  al- 
though half-dead  with  joy,  still  retained  their 
seats  with  Indian  gravity  and  immobility  of  fea- 
ture, turning  now  and  then  the  crackling  snakes 
which  lay  on  the  embers  of  the  fire.  The  two 
strangers  approached.  One,  a  man  of  some  fifty 
years  of  age,  of  middle  height  and  stoutly  built, 


216  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

was  clad  in  a  white  shooting-jacket,  of  cut  un- 
known in  mountain  tailoring,  and  a  pair  of 
trousers  of  the  well-known  material  called  shep- 
herd's plaid ;  a  broad-brimmed  Panama  shaded  his 
face,  which  was  ruddy  with  health  and  exercise; 
a  belt  round  the  waist  supported  a  handsome 
bowie-knife,  and  a  double-barreled  fowling-piece 
was  slung  across  his  shoulder. 

His  companion  was  likewise  dressed  in  a  light 
shooting- jacket,  of  many  pockets  and  dandy  cut, 
rode  on  an  English  saddle  and  in  boots,  and  was 
armed  with  a  superb  double  rifle,  glossy  from  the 
case,  and  bearing  few  marks  of  use  or  service. 
He  was  a  tall  fine-looking  fellow  of  thirty,  with 
light  hair  and  complexion ;  a  scrupulous  beard 
and  mustache;  a  wide-awake  hat,  with  a  short 
pipe  stuck  in  the  band,  not  very  black  with  smoke ; 
an  elaborate  powder-horn  over  his  shoulder,  with 
a  Cairngorm  in  the  butt  as  large  as  a  plate ;  a  blue 
handkerchief  tied  round  his  throat  in  a  sailor's 
knot,  and  the  collar  of  his  shirt  turned  carefully 
over  it.  He  had,  moreover,  a  tolerable  idea  of  his 
very  correct  appearance,  and  wore  Woodstock 
gloves. 

The  trappers  looked  at  them  from  head  to  foot, 
and  the  more  they  looked,  the  less  could  they  make 
them  out. 

"  H — !  "  exclaimed  La  Bonte,  emphatically. 

"  This  beats  grainin'  bull-hide  slick,"  broke 
from  Killbuck  as  the  strangers  reined  up  at  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  ^17 

fire,  the  younger  dismounting,  and  staring  with 
wonder  at  the  weather-beaten  trappers. 

"  Well,  my  men,  how  are  jou  ?  "  he  rattled  out. 
"Any  game  here?  By  Jove!"  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, seizing  his  rifle,  as  at  that  moment  a 
large  buzzard,  the  most  unclean  of  birds,  flew  into 
the  topmost  branch  of  a  cottonwood,  and  sat,  a 
tempting  shot.  "  By  Jove,  there's  a  chance !  " 
cried  the  mighty  hunter ;  and,  bending  low,  started 
off  to  approach  the  unwary  bird  in  the  most  ap- 
proved fashion  of  northern  deer-stalkers.  The 
buzzard  sat  quietly,  and  now  and  then  stretched 
its  neck  to  gaze  upon  the  advancing  sportsman, 
who  on  such  occasions  threw  himself  flat  on  the 
ground,  and  remained,  motionless,  in  dread  of 
alarming  the  bird.  It  was  worth  while  to  look  at 
the  countenance  of  old  Killbuck,  as  he  watched 
the  antics  of  the  "  bourgeois "  hunter.  He 
thought  at  first  that  the  dandy  rifleman  had  really 
discovered  game  in  the  bottom,  and  was  nothing 
loath  that  there  was  a  chance  of  his  seeing  meat; 
but  when  he  understood  the  object  of  such  ma- 
neuvers, and  saw  the  quarry  the  hunter  was  so  care- 
fully approaching,  his  mouth  grinned  from  ear  to 
ear,  and,  turning  to  La  Bonte,  he  said,  "  Wagh ! 
lie^s  some  —  lie  is  !  " 

Nothing  doubting,  however,  the  stranger  ap- 
proached the  tree  on  which  the  bird  was  sitting, 
and,  getting  well  under  it,  raised  his  rifle  and 
fired.     Down  tumbled  the  bird ;  and  the  successful 


218  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

hunter,  with  a  loud  shout,  rushed  frantically  to- 
wards it,  and  bore  it  in  triumph  to  tJie  camp,  earn- 
ing the  most  sovereign  contempt  from  the  two 
trappers  by  the  achievement. 

The  other  stranger  was  a  quieter  character. 
He,  too,  smiled  as  he  witnessed  the  exultation  of 
his  younger  companion  (whose  horse,  by  the  way, 
was  scampering  about  the  plain),  and  spoke  kindly 
to  the  mountaineers,  whose  appearance  was  clear 
evidence  of  the  sufferings  they  had  endured.  The 
snakes  by  this  time  were  cooked,  and  the  trappers 
gave  their  new  acquaintances  the  never-failing  in- 
vitation to  *'  sit  and  eat."  When  the  latter,  how- 
ever, understood  what  the  viands  were,  their  looks 
expressed  the  horror  and  disgust  they  felt. 

"  Good  God !  "  exclaimed  the  elder,  "  you  surely 
cannot  eat  such  disgusting  food?  " 

"  This  nigger  doesn't  savy  what  disgustin'  is," 
gruffly  answered  Killbuck ;  "  but  them  as  carries 
empty  paunch  three  days  an'  more,  is  glad  to  get 
snake  meat,  I'm  thinkin'." 

*' What!  you've  no  ammunition,  then?  " 

"  Well,  we  haven't." 

"  Wait  till  the  wagons  come  up,  and  throw  away 
that  abominable  stuff,  and  you  shall  have  some- 
thing better,  I  promise,"  said  the  elder  of  tlie 
strangers, 

"  Yes,"  continued  the  younger ;  "  some  hot  pre- 
served soup,  hotch-potch,  and  a  glass  of  porter, 
will  do  you  good." 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  219 

The  trappers  looked  at  the  speaker,  who  was 
talking  Greek  (to  them).  They  thought  the 
bourgeois  were  making  fun,  and  did  not  half  like 
it,  so  answered  simply,  "  Wagh  1  h — 's  full  of  hosh- 
posh  and  porter." 

Two  large  wagons  presently  came  up,  escorted 
by  some  eight  or  ten  stout  Missourians.  Sub- 
lette was  amongst  the  number,  well  known  as  a 
mountain  trader,  and  under  whose  guidance  the 
present  party,  which  fonned  a  pleasure  expedition 
at  the  expense  of  a  Scotch  sportsman,  was  lei- 
surely making  its  way  across  the  mountains  to  the 
Columbia.  As  several  mountaineers  were  in  com- 
pany, Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  recognized  more  than 
one  friend,  and  the  former  and  Sublette  were  old 
campaneros.  As  soon  as  the  animals  were  un- 
hitched, and  camp  formed  on  the  banks  of  the 
creek,  a  black  cook  set  about  preparing  a  meal. 
Our  two  trapping  friends  looked  on  with  astonish- 
ment as  the  sable  functionary  drew  from  the 
wagon  the  different  articles  he  required  to  furnish 
forth  a  feed.  Hams,  tongues,  tins  of  preserved 
meats,  bottles  of  pickles,  of  porter,  brandy,  coffee, 
sugar,  flour,  were  tumbled  promiscuously  on  the 
prairie ;  whilst  pots  and  pans,  knives,  forks, 
spoons,  plates,  &c.  &c.,  displayed  their  unfamiliar 
faces  to  the  mountaineers.  "  Hosh-posh  and  por- 
ter "  did  not  now  appear  such  Utopian  articles  as 
they  had  first  imagined ;  but  no  one  but  those  who 
have    lived  for  years  on  simple  meat  and  water, 


220  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

can  understand  the  relish  with  which  they  ac- 
cepted the  invitation  of  the  Cap'n  (as  they  called 
the  Scotchman)  to  "  take  a  horn  of  liquor." 
Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  sat  in  the  same  position  as 
when  we  first  surprised  them  asleep  under  the 
shadow  of  Independence  Rock,  regarding  the  pro- 
fuse display  of  comestibles  with  scarce-believing 
eyes,  and  childishly  helpless  from  the  novelty  of 
the  scene.  Each  took  the  proffered  half-pint  cup, 
filled  to  the  brim  with  excellent  brandy  —  (no 
teetotallers  they!) — looked  once  at  the  amber- 
colored  surface,  and,  with  the  usual  mountain 
pledge  of  "  here's  luck !  "  tossed  off  the  grateful 
liquor  at  a  breath.  This  prepared  them  in  some 
measure  for  what  was  yet  in  store  for  them.  The 
Scotchman  bestirred  the  cook  in  his  work,  and 
soon  sundry  steaming  pots  were  lifted  from  the 
fire,  and  the  skillets  emptied  of  their  bread  —  the 
contents  of  the  former  poured  in  large  flat  pans, 
while  pannikins  were  filled  with  smoking  coffee. 
The  two  trappers  needed  no  second  invitation, 
but,  seizing  each  a  panful  of  steaming  stew,  drew 
the  butcher-knives  from  their  belts,  and  fell-to 
lustily  —  the  hospitable  Scotchman  plying  them 
with  more  and  more,  and  administering  corrective 
noggins  of  brandy  the  while ;  until  at  last  they  were 
fain  to  cry  "  enough,"  wiped  their  knives  on  the 
grass,  and  placed  them  in  their  sheaths  —  a  sign 
that  human  nature  could  no  more.  How  can  pen 
describe  the  luxury  of  the  smoke  that  followed,  to 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  2^1 

lips  which  had  not  kissed  pipe  for  many  months, 
and  how  the  fragrant  honey-dew  from  Old  Vir- 
ginia was  relishingly  puffed! 

But  the  Scotchman's  bounty  did  not  stop  here. 
He  soon  elicited  from  the  lips  of  the  hunters  the 
narrative  of  their  losses  and  privations,  and 
learned  that  they  now,  without  ammunition  and 
scarcely  clothed,  were  on  their  way  to  Platte  Fort, 
to  hire  themselves  to  the  Indian  traders  in  order 
to  earn  another  outfit,  wherewith  once  more  to  be- 
take themselves  to  their  perilous  employment  of 
trapping.  What  was  their  astonishment  to  see 
their  entertainer  presently  lay  out  upon  the 
ground  two  piles  of  goods,  each  consisting  of  a 
four-point  Mackinaw,  two  tin  canisters  of  powder, 
with  corresponding  lead  and  flints,  a  pair  of  moc- 
casins, a  shirt,  and  sufficient  buckskin  to  make  a 
pair  of  pantaloons ;  and  how  much  the  more  was 
the  wonder  increased  when  two  excellent  Indian 
horses  were  presently  lassoed  from  the  cavallada, 
and  with  mountain  saddle,  bridle,  and  lariats  com- 
plete, together  with  the  two  piles  of  goods  de- 
scribed, presented  to  them  "  on  the  prairie  "  or 
"  gift-free,"  by  the  kind-hearted  stranger,  who 
would  not  even  listen  to  thanks  for  the  most  timely 
and  invaluable  present. 

Once  more  equipped,  our  two  hunters,  filled 
with  good  brandy  and  fat  buffalo  meat,  again 
wended  on  their  way ;  their  late  entertainers  con- 
tinuing their  pleasure-trip  across  the  gap  of  the 


222  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

South  Pass,  intending  to  visit  the  Great  Salt  Lake, 
or  Timponogos,  of  the  West.  The  former  were 
bound  for  the  North  Fork  of  the  Platte,  with  the 
intention  of  joining  one  of  the  numerous  trapping 
parties  which  rendezvous  at  the  American  Fur 
Company's  post  on  that  branch  of  the  river.  On 
a  fork  of  Sweetwater,  however,  not  two  days 
after  tlie  meeting  with  the  Scotchman's  wagons, 
they  encountered  a  band  of  a  dozen  mountaineers, 
mounted  on  fine  horses,  and  well  armed  and 
equipped,  traveling  along  without  the  usual  ac- 
companiment of  a  mulada  of  pack-animals,  two  or 
three  mules  alone  being  packed  with  meat  and 
spare  ammunition.  The  band  was  proceeding  at 
a  smart  rate,  the  horses  moving  with  the  gait  pe- 
culiar to  American  animals,  known  as  pacing  or 
racking,  in  Indian  file  —  each  of  the  mountain- 
eers with  a  long  heavy  rifle  resting  across  the 
horn  of  his  saddle.  Amongst  them  our  two 
friends  recognized  Markhead,  who  had  been  of  the 
party  dispersed  months  before  by  the  Blackfeet 
on  one  of  the  head-streams  of  the  Yellow  Stone, 
which  event  had  been  the  origin  of  the  dire  suffer- 
ings of  Killbuck  and  La  Bonte.  Markhead,  after 
running  the  gauntlet  of  numerous  Indians,  through 
the  midst  of  whose  country  he  passed  with  his 
usual  temerity  and  utter  disregard  to  danger,  suf- 
fering hunger,  thirst,  and  cold  —  those  everyday 
experiences  of  mountain  life  —  riddled  with  balls, 
but  with  three  scalps  hanging  from  his  belt,  made 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  223 

his  way  to  a  rendezvous  on  Bear  River,  whence  he 
struck  out  for  tlie  Platte  in  early  spring,  in  time 
to  join  the  band  he  now  accompanied,  who  were 
on  a  horse-stealing  expedition  to  the  Missions  of 
Upper  California.  Little  persuasion  did  either 
Killbuck  or  La  Bonte  require  to  join  the  sturdy 
freebooters.  In  five  minutes  they  had  gone  "  files- 
about,"  and  at  sundown  were  camping  on  the  well- 
timbered  bottom  of  Little  Sandy,  feasting  once 
more  on  delicate  hump-rib  and  tenderloin. 

For  California,  ho ! 

Fourteen  good  rifles  in  the  hands  of  fourteen 
mountainmen  stout  and  true,  on  fourteen  strong 
horses,  of  true  Indian  blood  and  training — four- 
teen cool  heads,  with  fourteen  pairs  of  keen  eyes  in 
them,  each  head  crafty  as  an  Indian's,  directing 
a  right  arm  strong  as  steel,  and  a  heart  as  brave 
as  grizzly  bear's.  Before  them  a  thousand  miles 
of  dreary  desert  or  wilderness,  overrun  by  hostile 
savages,  thirsting  for  the  white  man's  blood; 
famine  and  drought,  the  arrows  of  wily  hordes  of 
Indians  —  and,  these  dangers  past,  the  invasion 
of  the  civilized  settlements  of  whites,  the  least 
numerous  of  which  contained  ten  times  their  num- 
ber of  armed  and  bitter  enemies  —  the  sudden 
swoop  upon  their  countless  herds  of  mules  and 
horses,  the  fierce  attack  and  bloody  slaughter ;  — 
such  were  the  consequences  of  the  expedition  these 
bold  mountaineers  were  now  engaged  in.  Four- 
teen lives  of  any  fourteen  enemies  who  would  be 


224  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

rash  enough  to  stay  them,  were,  any  day  you  will, 
carried  in  the  rifle-barrels  of  these  stout  fellows ; 
who,  in  all  the  proud  consciousness  of  their  phys- 
ical qualities,  neither  thought,  nor  cared  to  think, 
of  future  perils ;  and  rode  merrily  on  their  way, 
rejoicing  in  the  dangers  they  must  necessarily 
meet.  Never  a  more  daring  band  crossed  the 
mountains ;  a  more  than  ordinary  want  of  caution 
characterized  their  march,  and  dangers  were  reck- 
lessly and  needlessly  invited,  which  even  the  older 
and  more  cold-blooded  mountaineers  seemed  not  to 
care  to  avoid.  They  had,  each  and  all,  many  a 
debt  \o  pay  the  marauding  Indians.  Grudges  for 
many  privations,  for  wounds  and  loss  of  com- 
rades, rankled  in  their  breasts ;  and  not  one  but 
had  suffered  more  or  less  in  property  and  person 
at  the  hands  of  the  savages,  within  a  few  short 
months.  Threats  of  vengeance  on  every  Redskin 
they  met  were  loud  and  deep ;  and  the  wild  war- 
songs  round  their  nightly  camp-fires,  and  gro- 
tesque scalp-dances,  borrowed  from  the  Indians, 
proved  to  the  initiated  that  they  were,  one  and  all, 
"  half-froze  for  hair."  Soon  after  Killbuck  and 
La  Bonte  joined  them,  they  one  day  suddenly  sur- 
prised a  band  of  twenty  Sioux,  scattered  on  a 
small  prairie,  and  butchering  some  buffalo  they 
had  just  killed.  Before  they  could  escape,  the 
whites  were  upon  them  with  loud  shouts,  and  in 
three  minutes  the  scalps  of  eleven  were  dangling 
from  their  saddle-horns. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  225 

Struggling  up  mountains,  slipping  down  preci- 
pices, dashing  over  prairies  which  resounded  with 
their  Indian  songs,  charging  the  Indians  wherever 
thej  met  them,  and  without  regard  to  their  num- 
bers ;  frightening  with  their  lusty  war-whoops  the 
miserable  Diggers,  who  were  not  unfrequently  sur- 
prised while  gathering  roots  in  the  mountain 
plains,  and  who,  scrambling  up  the  rocks  and  con- 
cealing themselves,  like  sage  rabbits,  in  holes  and 
corners,  peered,  chattering  with  fear,  as  the  wild 
and  noisy  troop  rode  by :  scarce  drawing  rein, 
they  passed  rapidly  the  heads  of  Green  and  Grand 
Rivers,  through  a  country  abounding  in  game  and 
in  excellent  pasture ;  encountering  in  the  upland 
valleys,  through  which  meandered  the  well-tim- 
bered creeks  on  which  they  made  their  daily 
camps,  many  a  band  of  Yutas,  through  whom 
they  dashed  at  random,  caring  not  whether  they 
were  friends  or  foes.  Passing  many  other  heads 
of  streams,  they  struck  at  last  the  edge  of  the 
desert,  lying  along  the  south-eastern  base  of  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  and  which  extends  in  almost  un- 
broken sterility  to  the  foot  of  the  range  of  the 
Sierra  Nevada  —  a  mountain-chain,  capped  with 
perpetual  snow,  that  bounds  the  northern  extrem- 
ity of  a  singular  tract  of  country,  walled  by 
mountains  and  utterly  desert,  whose  salt  lagoons 
and  lakes,  although  fed  by  many  streams,  find 
no  outlet  to  the  ocean,  but  are  absorbed  in  the 
spongy  soil  or  thirsty  sand  which  characterize  the 


23«  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

different  portions  of  this  deserted  tract.  In  the 
Grand  Basin,  it  is  reported,  neither  human  nor 
animal  life  can  be  supported.  No  oasis  cheers 
the  wanderer  in  the  unbroken  solitude  of  the  vast 
wilderness.  More  than  once  the  lone  trapper  has 
penetrated  with  hardy  enterprise  into  the  salt 
plains  of  the  basin,  but  no  signs  of  beaver  or  fur- 
bearing  animal  rewarded  the  attempt.  The 
ground  is  scantily  covered  with  coarse  unwhole- 
some grass  that  mules  and  horses  refuse  to  eat; 
and  the  water  of  the  springs,  impregnated  with 
the  impurities  of  the  soil  through  which  it  perco- 
lates, affords  but  nauseating  draughts  to  the 
thirsty  traveler. 

In  passing  from  the  more  fertile  uplands  to  the 
lower  plains,  as  they  descended  the  streams,  the 
timber  on  their  banks  became  scarcer,  and  the 
groves  more  scattered.  The  rich  buffalo  or 
grama  grass  was  exchanged  for  a  coarser  species, 
on  which  the  hard-worked  animals  soon  grew  poor 
and  weak.  The  thickets  of  plum  and  cherry,  of 
box-elder  and  quaking-ash,  which  had  hitherto 
fringed  the  creeks,  and  where  the  deer  and  bear 
loved  to  resort  —  the  former  to  browse  on  the 
leaves  and  tender  shoots,  the  latter  to  de- 
vour the  fruit  —  now  entirely  disappeared, 
and  the  only  shrub  seen  was  the  eternal  sage- 
bush,  which  flourishes  ever3rwhere  in  the  west- 
ern regions  in  uncongenial  soils  where  other 
vegetation  refuses  to  grow.     The  visible  change 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  227 

in  the  scenery  had  also  a  sensible  effect  on 
the  spirits  of  the  mountaineers.  They  traveled 
on  in  silence  through  the  deserted  plains ;  the  hi- 
hi-hiya  of  their  Indian  chants  was  no  longer  heard 
enlivening  the  line  of  march.  More  than  once  a 
Digger  of  the  Piyutah  tribe  took  himself  and  hair 
in  safety  from  their  path,  and  almost  unnoticed; 
but  as  they  advanced  they  became  more  cautious 
in  their  movements,  and  testified,  by  the  vigilant 
watch  they  kept,  that  they  anticipated  hostile 
attacks  even  in  these  arid  wastes.  They  had 
passed  without  molestation  through  the  country 
infested  by  the  bolder  Indians.  The  mountain 
Yutas,  not  relishing  the  appearance  of  the 
hunters,  had  left  them  unmolested ;  but  they  were 
now  entering  a  country  inhabited  by  the  most  de- 
graded and  abject  of  the  western  tribes;  who, 
nevertheless,  ever  suffering  from  the  extremities  of 
hunger,  have  their  brutish  wits  sharpened  by  the 
necessity  of  procuring  food,  and  rarely  fail  to  levy 
a  contribution  of  rations,  of  horse  or  mule  flesh, 
on  the  passenger  in  their  inhospitable  country. 
The  brutish  cunning  and  animal  instinct  of  these 
wretches  is  such,  that,  although  arrant  cowards, 
their  attacks  are  more  feared  than  those  of  bolder 
Indians.  These  people  —  called  the  Yamparicas 
or  Root  Diggers  —  are,  nevertheless,  the  degen- 
erate descendants  of  those  tribes  which  once  over- 
ran that  portion  of  the  continent  of  North 
America  now  comprehended  within  the  boundaries 


228  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

of  Mexico,  and  who  have  left  such  startling  evi- 
dences in  their  track  of  a  comparatively  superior 
state  of  civilization.  They  now  form  an  outcast 
tribe  of  the  great  nation  of  the  Apache,  which  ex- 
tends under  various  names  from  the  Great  Salt 
Lake  along  the  table-lands  on  each  side  of  the 
Sierra  Madre  to  the  tropic  of  Cancer,  where  they 
merge  into  what  are  called  the  Mexican  Indians. 
The  whole  of  this  nation  is  characterized  by  most 
abject  cowardice;  and  they  even  refuse  to  meet 
the  helpless  Mexicans  in  open  fight  —  unlike  the 
Yuta  or  Comanche,  who  carry  bold  and  open  war- 
fare into  the  territories  of  their  civilized  enemy, 
and  never  shrink  from  hand-to-hand  encounter. 
The  Apaches  and  the  degenerate  Diggers  pui'sue 
a  cowardly  warfare,  hiding  in  ambush,  and  shoot- 
ing the  passer-by  with  arrows;  or,  dashing  upon 
him  at  night  when  steeped  in  sleep,  they  bury 
their  arrow  to  the  feather  in  his  heaving  breast. 
As  the  Mexicans  say,  "  Sm  ventaja,  no  salen;  " 
they  never  attack  without  odds.  But  they  are 
not  the  less  dangerous  enemies  on  this  account; 
and  by  the  small  bands  of  trappers  who  visit  their 
country  they  are  the  more  dreaded  by  reason  of 
this  cowardly  and  wolfish  system  of  warfare. 

To  provide  against  surprise,  therefore,  as  the 
hunters  rode  along,  flankers  were  extended  en 
guerilla  on  each  side,  mounting  the  high  points 
to  reconnoiter  the  country,  and  keeping  a  sharp 
look-out  for  Indian  sign.     At  night  the  animals 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

were  securely  hobbled,  and  a  horse-guard  posted 
round  them  —  a  service  of  great  danger,  as  the 
stealthy  cat-like  Diggers  are  often  known  to  steal 
up  silently,  under  cover  of  the  darkness,  towards 
the  sentinel,  shoot  him  with  their  arrows,  and,  ap- 
proaching the  animals,  cut  the  hobbles  and  drive 
them  away  unseen. 

One  night  they  encamped  on  a  creek  where  was 
but  little  of  the  coarsest  pasture,  and  that  little 
scattered  here  and  there,  so  that  they  were  com- 
pelled to  allow  their  animals  to  roam  farther  than 
usual  from  camp  in  search  of  food.  Four  of  the 
hunters,  however,  accompanied  them  to  guard 
against  surprise;  whilst  but  half  of  those  in  camp 
lay  down  to  sleep,  the  others,  with  rifles  in  their 
hands,  remaining  prepared  for  any  emergency. 
This  day  they  had  killed  one  of  their  two  pack- 
mules  for  food,  game  not  having  been  met  with 
for  several  days ;  but  the  animal  was  so  poor  that 
it  scarcely  afforded  more  than  one  tolerable  meal 
to  the  whole  party. 

A  short  time  before  the  dawn  of  day  an  alarm 
was  given ;  the  animals  were  heard  to  snort  vio- 
lently ;  a  loud  shout  was  heard,  followed  by  the 
sharp  crack  of  a  rifle,  and  the  tramp  of  galloping 
horses  plainly  showed  that  a  stampede  had  been 
affected.  The  whites  instantly  sprang  to  their 
arms,  and  rushed  in  the  direction  of  the  sounds. 
The  body  of  the  cavallada,  however,  had  luckily 
turned,  and,  being  headed  by   the  mountaineers, 


230  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

were  surrounded  and  secured,  with  the  loss  of  only 
three,  which  had  probaJbly  been  mounted  by  the 
Indians. 

Day  breaking  soon  after,  one  of  their  band  was 
discovered  to  be  missing;  and  it  was  then  found 
that  a  man  who  had  been  standing  horse-guard  at 
the  time  of  the  attack,  had  not  come  into  camp 
with  his  companions.  At  that  moment  a  thin 
spiral  column  of  smoke  was  seen  to  rise  from  the 
banks  of  the  creek,  telling  but  too  surely  the  fate 
of  the  missing  mountaineer.  It  was  the  signal  of 
the  Indians  to  their  people  that  a  coup  had  been 
struck,  and  that  an  enemy's  scalp  remained  in 
their  triumphant  hands. 

"  H !  "  exclaimed  the  trappers  in  a  breath ; 

and  soon  imprecations  and  threats  of  revenge, 
loud  and  deep,  were  showered  upon  the  heads  of 
the  treacherous  Indians.  Some  of  the  party 
rushed  to  the  spot  where  the  guard  had  stood,  and 
there  lay  the  body  of  their  comrade,  pierced  with 
lance  and  arrow,  the  scalp  gone,  and  the  body 
otherwise  mutilated  in  a  barbarous  manner. 
Five  were  quickly  in  the  saddle,  mounted  upon  the 
strongest  horses,  and  flying  along  the  track  of  the 
Indians,  who  had  made  off  towards  the  mountains 
with  their  prize  and  booty.  We  will  not  follow 
them  in  their  work  of  bloody  vengeance,  save  by 
saying  that  they  followed  the  savages  to  their 
village,  into  which  they  charged  headlong,  re- 
covered their  stolen  horses,  and  returned  to  camp 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  231 

at  sundown  with  thirteen  scalps  dangling  from 
their  rifles,  in  payment  for  the  loss  of  their  unfor- 
tunate companion.* 

In  their  further  advance,  hunger  and  thirst 
were  their  daily  companions :  they  were  compelled 
to  kill  several  of  their  animals  for  food,  but  were 
fortunate  enough  to  replace  them  by  a  stroke  of 
good-luck  in  meeting  a  party  of  Indians  return- 
ing from  an  excursion  against  one  of  the  Cali- 
fornian  settlements  with  a  tolerably  large  band  of 
horses.  Our  hunters  met  this  band  one  fine  morn- 
ing, and  dashed  into  the  midst  at  once;  half-a- 
dozen  Indians  bit  the  dust,  and  twenty  horses 
were  turned  over  from  red  to  white  masters  in  as 
many  seconds,  which  remounted  those  whose  ani- 
mals had  been  eaten,  and  enabled  the  others  to 
exchange  their  worn-out  steeds  for  fresh  ones. 
This  fortunate  event  was  considered  a  coup,  and 
the  event  was  celebrated  by  the  slaughter  of  a  fat 
young  horse,  which  furnished  an  excellent  supper 
that  night  —  a  memorable  event  in  these  starve- 
ling regions. 

*  In  Fremont's  expedition  to  California,  on  a  somewhat 
similar  occasion,  two  mountaineers  —  one  the  celebrated 
Kit  Carson,  the  other  a  St.  Louis  Frenchman  named  Godcy, 
and  both  old  trappers  —  performed  a  feat  surpassing  the 
one  described  above,  inasmuch  as  they  were  but  two.  They 
charged  into  an  Indian  village  to  rescue  some  stolen  horses, 
and  avenge  the  slaughter  of  two  New  Mexicans  who  had 
been  butchered  by  the  Indians;  both  which  objects  thej 
effected,  returning  to  camp  with  the  lost  animals  and  e 
couple  of  propitiatory  scalps. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

They  were  now  devouring  their  horses  and 
mules  at  the  rate  of  one  every  alternate  day ;  for 
so  poor  were  the  animals  that  one  scarcely  fur- 
nished an  ample  meal  for  the  thirteen  hungry 
hunters.  They  were  once  more  reduced  to  the 
animals  they  rode  on ;  and  after  a  fast  of  twenty- 
four  hours'  duration,  were  debating  on  the  pro- 
priety of  drawing  lots  as  to  whose  Rosinante 
should  fill  the  kettle,  when  some  Indians  suddenly 
appeared  making  signs  of  peace  upon  the  bluff, 
and  indicating  a  disposition  to  enter  the  camp  for 
the  purpose  of  trading.  Being  invited  to  ap- 
proach, they  offered  to  trade  a  few  dressed  elk- 
skins  ;  but  being  asked  for  meat,  they  said  that 
their  village  was  a  long  way  off,  and  they  had 
nothing  with  them  but  a  small  portion  of  some 
game  they  had  lately  killed.  When  requested  to 
produce  this  they  hesitated ;  but  the  trappers 
looking  hungry  and  angry  at  the  same  moment,  an 
old  Indian  drew  from  under  his  blanket  several 
flaps  of  portable  dried  meat,  which  he  declared 
was  bear's.  It  was  but  a  small  ration  amongst 
so  many ;  but,  being  divided,  was  quickly  laid 
upon  the  fire  to  broil.  The  meat  was  stringy, 
and  of  whitish  color,  altogether  unlike  any 
flesh  the  trappers  had  before  eaten.  Killbuck  was 
the  first  to  discover  this.  He  had  been  quietly 
masticating  the  last  mouthful  of  his  portion,  the 
stringiness  of  which  required  more  than  usual 
dental  exertion,  when   the  novelty  of  the  flavor 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  233 

struck  him  as  something  singular.  Suddenly  his 
jaws  ceased  their  work,  he  thought  a  moment, 
took  the  morsel  from  his  mouth,  looked  at  it  in- 
tently, and  dashed  it  into  the  fire. 

"  Man-meat,  by  G — !  "  he  cried  out ;  and  at  the 
words  every  jaw  stopped  work:  the  trappers 
looked  at  the  meat  and  each  other. 

"  I'm  dog-gone  if  it  ain't ! "  cried  old  Walker, 
looking  at  his  piece,  "  and  white  meat  at  that, 
wagh!  "  (and  report  said  it  was  not  the  first  time 
he  had  tasted  such  viands;)  and  the  conviction 
seizing  each  mind,  every  mouthful  was  quickly 
spat  into  the  fire,  and  the  ire  of  the  deceived 
whites  was  instantly  turned  upon  the  luckless  pro- 
viders of  the  feast.  They  saw  the  storm  that  was 
brewing,  and  without  more  ado  turned  tail  from 
the  camp,  and  scuttled  up  the  bluffs,  where, 
turning  round,  they  fired  a  volley  of  arrows 
at  the  tricked  mountaineers,  and  instantly  disap^ 
peared. 

However,  the  desert  and  its  nomad  pilferers 
were  at  length  passed;  the  sandy  plains  became 
grass-covered  prairies ;  the  monstrous  cottonwood 
on  the  creeks  was  replaced  by  oak  and  ash;  the 
surface  of  the  country  grew  more  undulating,  and 
less  broken  up  into  cafions  and  ravines ;  elk  and 
deer  leaped  in  the  bottoms,  and  bands  of  antelope 
dotted  the  plains,  with  occasional  troops  of  wild 
horses,  too  wary  to  allow  the  approach  of  man. 
On  the  banks  of  a  picturesque  stream  called  the 


234  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

San  Joaquim  the  party  halted  a  few  days  to  re- 
cruit themselves  and  animals,  feasting  the  while 
on  the  fattest  of  venison  and  other  game.  They 
then  struck  to  the  south-east  for  two  days,  until 
they  reached  a  branch  of  the  Las  Animas,  a 
clear  stream  running  through  a  pretty  valley, 
well  timbered  and  abounding  in  game.  Here, 
as  they  wound  along  the  river-banks,  a  horseman 
suddenly  appeared  upon  the  bluff  above  them, 
galloping  at  a  furious  rate  along  the  edge.  His 
dress  approached  in  some  degree  to  civilized  at- 
tire. A  broad-brimmed  sombrero  surmounted 
his  swarthy  face;  a  colored  blanket,  through  a 
slit  in  which  his  head  was  thrust,  floated  in  the 
air  from  his  shoulders ;  leathern  leggings  incased 
his  lower  limbs;  and  huge  spurs  jingled  on  his 
heels.  He  rode  in  a  high-peaked  Mexican  saddle, 
his  feet  thrust  in  ponderous  stirrups,  and  in  his 
hand  swung  a  coil  of  ready  lasso,  liis  only  of- 
fensive aiTti.  One  of  the  trappers  knew  a  little 
Spanish,  and  instantly  hailed  him. 

"  Compadre,"  he  shouted,  "  por  onde  va?  " 
The  Californian  reined  in  suddenly,  throwing  the 
hors€  he  rode  on  its  very  haunches,  and,  darting 
down  the  bluff,  galloped  unhesitatingly  into  the 
midst  of  the  hunters. 

*'  Americanos! "  he  exclaimed,  glancing  at 
them ;  and  continued,  smiling  — "  Y  cahallos 
quieren,  por  eso  vienen  tan  lejitos.  Jesus,  que 
mala  gente!  " — "  It's  horses  you  want,   and  for 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  235 

this  jou  come  all  this  way.     Ah,  what  rogues  you 


are 


t  " 


He  was  an  Indian,  employed  at  the  Mission  of 
San  Fernando,  distant  three  days'  journey  from 
their  present  position,  and  was  now  searching  for 
a  band  of  horses  and  mules  which  had  strayed. 
San  Fernando,  it  appeared,  had  once  before  been 
visited  by  a  party  of  mountain  freebooters,  and 
the  Indian  therefore  divined  the  object  of  the  pres- 
ent one.  He  was,  he  told  them,  "  un  Indio,  pero 
mansito  " —  an  Indian,  but  a  tame  one  ;*"  de  mas, 
Christiano  " —  a  Christian,  moreover  (exhibiting 
a  small  cross  which  hung  round  his  neck).  There 
were  many  people  about  the  Mission,  he  said,  who 
knew  how  to  fight,  and  had  plenty  of  arms ;  and 
there  were  enough  to  "  eat  up,"  the  "  Americanos, 
san  frijoles,"  without  beans,  as  he  facetiously  ob- 
served. For  his  part,  however,  he  was  very 
friendly  to  the  Americanos;  he  had  once  met  a 
man  of  that  nation  who  was  a  good  sort  of  fel- 
low, and  who  had  made  him  a  present  of  tobacco, 
of  which  he  was  particularly  fond.  Finding  this 
hint  did  not  take,  he  said  that  the  horses  and 
mules  belonging  to  the  Mission  were  innumerable 
— "  like  that,"  he  added,  sweeping  his  hand  to  all 
points  of  the  compass  over  the  plain,  to  intimate 
that  they  would  cover  that  extent ;  and  he  could 
point   out  a  large  herd  grazing  nearer  at  hand 

*  The  Mexicans  call  the  Indians  living  near  the  Missions 
and  engaged  in  agriculture,  mansos,  or  mansitoSj  "tame." 


236  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

than  the  Mission,  and  guarded  but  by  three 
vaqueros.  Regaled  with  venison,  and  with  a 
smoke  of  his  coveted  tobacco,  he  rode  off, 
and  made  his  way  to  the  Mission  without  delay, 
conveying  the  startling  intelligence  that  a  thou- 
sand Americans  were  upon  them. 

The  next  morning  the  thirteen  doughty  moun- 
taineers quietly  resumed  their  journey,  moving 
leisurely  along  towards  the  object  of  their  expedi- 
tion. 

It  will  not  be  out  of  place  here  to  digress  a 
little,  in  order  to  describe  the  singular  features  of 
the  establishments  fonned  in  those  remote  regions 
by  the  Catholic  Church,  as  nuclei  round  which  to 
concentrate  the  wandering  tribes  that  inhabit  the 
country,  with  a  view  to  give  them  the  benefit  of 
civilized  example,  and  to  wean  them  from  their 
restless  nomadic  habits. 

The  establishment  of  Missions  in  Upper  Cali- 
fornia is  coeval  with  the  first  settlement  of  South- 
ern Mexico.  No  sooner  had  Spanish  rule  taken 
a  firm  foothold  in  the  Aztec  empire,  than  the 
avowed  primary  object  of  the  military  expedition 
began  to  be  carried  into  effect.  "  To  save  the 
souls  "  of  the  savage  and  barbarous  subjects  of 
their  most  Catholic  majesties  was  ever  inculcated 
upon  the  governors  of  the  conquered  country  as 
the  grand  object  to  be  sought  after,  as  soon  as 
tranquillity  was  partially  restored  by  the  sub- 
mission of  the  Mexicans ;  and  the  Cross,  the  sacred 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  23T 

emblem  of  the  Catholic  faith,  was  to  be  upraised 
in  the  remotest  corners  of  the  country,  and  the 
natives  instructed  and  compelled  to  worship  it,  in 
lieu  of  the  grotesque  images  of  their  own  idola- 
trous religion. 

To  carry  into  effect  these  orthodox  Instruc- 
tions, troops  of  pious  priests,  of  friars  and  monks 
of  every  order,  and  even  of  saintly  nuns,  followed 
in  the  wake  of  the  victorious  armies  of  Cortez ; 
and  girding  up  their  loins,  with  zealous  fervor 
and  enthusiasm,  and  with  an  enterprise  and  hardi- 
hood worthy  of  buccaneers,  they  pushed  their 
adventurous  way  far  into  the  bowels  of  the  land, 
preaching  devoutly  and  with  commendable  perse- 
verance to  savages  who  did  not  understand  a  syl- 
lable of  what  they  so  eloquently  discoursed ;  and 
returning,  after  the  lapse  of  many  months  passed 
in  this  first  attempt,  with  glowing  accounts  of  the 
*'  rmiy  buen  indole"  the  very  ductile  disposition 
of  the  savages,  and  of  the  thousands  they  had 
converted  to  "  la  santa  fe  catolica.'* 

Ferdinand  and  Isabel,  of  glorious  memory,  at 
once  beat  up  for  volunteers.  Crowds  of  Francis- 
can monks,  greasy  Capuchinos,  and  nuns  of 
orthodox  odor,  joined  the  band;  and  saints  even 
of  the  feminine  gender,  long  since  canonized  and 
up  aloft  amongst  the  goodly  muster  of  saints  and 
martyrs,  put  foot  once  more  on  terra  f,rma,  and, 
rosary  in  hand,  crossed  the  seas  to  participate  in 
the  good  work.     As  proof  of  this  latter  fact,  one 


238  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Venabides,  a  Franciscan,  whose  veracity  is  beyond 
impeachment,  declared  that,  while  preaching  in 
the  regions  now  known  as  New  Mexico,  one  million 
Indians  from  the  "  rumbo "  Icnown  as  Cibolo,  a 
mighty  nation,  approached  his  temporary  pul- 
pit on  the  Rio  Grande,  and  requested  in  a  body 
the  favor  of  being  baptized.  Struck  with  the 
singularity  of  this  request  from  Indians  with 
whom  he  had  as  yet  held  no  communication,  and 
with  conscientious  scruple  as  to  whether  he  would 
be  justified  in  performing  such  ceremony  without 
their  having  received  previous  instruction,  he  hesi- 
tated a  few  moments  before  making  an  answer. 
At  this  juncture  the  Indians  espied  a  medallion 
which  hung  around  his  neck,  bearing  the  effigy  of 
a  certain  saint  of  extraordinary  virtue.  At  sight 
of  this  they  fell  on  their  knees  before  it ;  and  it 
was  some  time  before  they  found  words  (in  what 
language  does  not  appear)  to  explain  to  the  holy 
father  that  the  original  of  that  effigy,  which 
hung  pendant  from  his  neck,  had  been  long 
amongst  them  instructing  them  in  the  elements 
of  the  Christian  religion,  and  had  only  lately  dis- 
appeared; informing  them  that  certain  reverend 
men  would  shortly  appear  in  the  land,  who  would 
finish  the  good  work  she  had  devoutly  commenced, 
and  clench  the  business  by  baptizing  the  one  mil- 
lion miserable  sinners  who  now  knelt  before  El 
Padre  Venabides. 

"  Valgame   Dios! "    reverently    exclaimed    that 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  239 

worthy  man,  "  qui  milagro  es  este!  "  [what  a  mir- 
acle is  this  I  hear!]  and  casting  up  his  eyes,  and 
speaking  slowly,  as  if  he  weighed  every  word,  and 
taxing  his  memory  of  the  historical  calendar  of 
saints,  continued, — 

"  Se  murio  —  aquella  —  santissima  —  Tmiger  — 
en  &l  ano  175  —  es  decir  —  ya  liucen  —  mil  — 
quatro  —  cientos  —  anos."  [That  most  holy 
woman  died  in  the  year  175 ;  that  is  to  say,  one 
thousand  four  hundred  years  ago.] 

"  Oh,  what  a  strange  thing  is  this ! "  the  padre 
continues  devoutly.  "  After  so  many  ages  spent 
in  heaven  in  company  of  the  angels,  of  most  holy 
men,  and  of  virgins  the  most  pure  —  and,  per- 
haps, also  in  the  company  of  my  worthy  and  es- 
teemed friend  and  patron,  Don  Vincente  Car- 
vajal  y  Calvo,  who  died  a  few  years  ago  in  San 
Lucar  Xeres  (bequeathing  me  certain  arrobas 
of  dry  wine,  of  a  class  I  greatly  esteem  —  for 
which  act  he  deserved  to  be  canonized,  and,  I  have 
no  doubt,  is),  the  said  Don  Vincente  Cai'vajal  y 
Calvo  being,  moreover,  a  man  of  the  purest  and 
holiest  thoughts  {Dios  mio!  what  a  puchero  that 
man  always  had  on  his  table!) — this  holy 
woman  comes  here,  to  these  wild  and  remote 
regions ;  this  holy  woman  (who  died  fifteen  hun- 
dred years  ago),  abandoning  the  company  of 
angels,  of  holy  men,  and  sanctified  women  and  vir- 
gins, and  also  of  Don  Vincente  Carvajal  y  Calvo 
(that  worthy  man!) — comes  here,  I  say,  where 


UO  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

there  are  neither  pucheros,  nor  garbanzos,  nor 
dry  wine,  nor  sweet  wine,  neither  of  Xeres,  nor 
of  Val  de  Pefias,  nor  of  Peralta;  where  "  (sobbed 
the  padre,  and  bellowed  the  last  word)  "  there  is 
—  nothing  either  to  eat  or  to  drink.  Valgame 
Purissvma  Maria!  And  what  is  the  name  of  this 
holy  woman?  the  world  will  aslc,"  continues  Ven- 
abides.  "  Santa  Clara  of  Carmona  is  her  name, 
one  well  known  in  my  native  country,  who  leaves 
heaven  and  all  its  joys,  wends  her  way  to  the  dis- 
tant wilds  of  New  Spain,  and  spends  years  in  in- 
ducting the  savage  people  to  the  holy  faith. 
Truly  a  pious  work,  and  pleasing  to  God !  "  * 

Thus  spoke  Venabides  the  Franciscan,  and  no 
doubt  he  believed  what  he  said;  and  many  others 
in  Old  Spain  were  fools  enough  to  believe  it  too, 
for  the  shaven  heads  flocked  over  in  greater  num- 
bers, and  the  cry  was  ever,  "  still  they  come." 

Along  the  whole  extent  of  the  table-lands,  not 
an  Indian  tribe  but  was  speedily  visited  by  the 
preaching  friars  and  monks ;  and  in  less  than  a 
century  after  the  conquest  of  Mexico  by  the 
Spaniards,  these  hardy  and  enthusiastic  frayles 
had  pushed  their  way  into  the  inhospitable  regions 
of  New  Mexico,  nearly  two  thousand  miles  distant 
from  the  valley  of  Anahuac.  How  they  succeeded 
in  surmounting  the  natural  obstacles  presented  by 

*  From  a  manuscript  obtained  in  Santa  F^  of  New  Mex- 
ico, describing  the  labors  of  the  missionaries  Fray  Augustin 
Ruiz,  Venabides,  and  Marcos,  in  the  year  1585. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  241 

the  wild  and  barren  deserts  they  traversed  —  how 
they  escaped  the  infinite  peril  they  encountered 
at  every  step  at  the  hands  of  the  savage  inhabit- 
ants of  the  country,  with  whose  language  they 
^vere  totally  unacquainted  —  is  sufficient  puzzle  to 
those  who,  in  the  present  day,  have  attempted  a 
journey  in  the  same  regions. 

However,  it  is  impossible  not  to  admire  the 
hardihood  of  these  holy  pioneers  of  civilization, 
who,  totally  unfitted  by  their  former  mode  of  life 
for  undergoing  such  hardships  as  they  must  have 
anticipated,  threw  themselves  into  the  wilderness 
with  fearless  and  stubborn  zeal. 

For  the  most  part,  however,  they  found  the 
Indians  exceedingly  hospitable  and  well  disposed; 
and  it  was  not  until  some  time  after  —  when,  re- 
ceiving from  the  missionary  monks  glowing,  and 
not  always  very  truthful,  accounts  of  the  riches 
of  the  country  in  which  they  had  located  them- 
selves, the  governors  of  Mexico  dispatched  armed 
expeditions  under  adventurous  desperadoes  to 
take  and  retain  possession  of  the  said  country, 
with  orders  to  compel  the  submission  of  the  na- 
tive tribes,  and  enforce  their  obedience  to  the 
authority  of  the  whites  —  that  the  simple  and  con- 
fiding Indians  began  to  see  the  folly  they  had 
committed  in  permitting  the  residence  amongst 
them  of  these  superior  beings,  whom  they  had 
first  looked  upon  as  more  than  mortal ;  but  who, 
when  strong  enough  to  do  so,  were  not  long  in 


242  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

throwing  off  the  mask,  and  proving  to  tlie  simple 
savages  that  thej  were  much  "  more  human  than 
divine." 

Tims,  in  the  province  of  New  Mexico,  Fray 
Augustin  Ruiz,  with  his  co-preachers,  Marcos  and 
Venabides,  were  kindly  received  by  the  native  in- 
habitants, and  we  have  seen  how  one  million  (?) 
Indians  came  from  the  "  rumbo  "  of  the  Cibolo, 
ready  and  willing  to  receive  the  baptismal  sacra- 
ment. This  Cibolo,  or  Sivulo,  as  it  is  written  in 
some  old  MSS.,  is,  by  the  way,  mysteriously 
alluded  to  by  the  monkish  historians  who  have 
written  on  this  region,  as  being  a  kingdom  in- 
habited by  a  very  superior  class  of  Indians  to  any 
met  with  between  Anahuac  and  the  vale  of  Taos 
—  in  the  enjoyment  of  a  high  state  of  civilization, 
inhabiting  a  well-built  city,  the  houses  of  which 
were  three  storeys  high,  and  having  attained  con- 
siderable perfection  in  the  domestic  arts.  This, 
notwithstanding  the  authority  of  Don  Francisco 
Vasquez  Coronado,  who  visited  Cibolo,  and  of 
Solis  and  Venegas,  who  have  guaranteed  the  as- 
sertion, must  be  received  cuvi  grano  salis;  but,  at 
all  events,  the  civilization  of  the  mysterious  Cibolo 
may  be  compared  to  that  of  the  Aztec  empire  un- 
der Montezuma,  at  tlie  time  of  the  Spanish  Con- 
quest, both  being  egregiously  exaggerated  by  the 
historians  of  the  day.  Cibolo  was  situated  on  a 
river  called  Tegue.  At  this  day,  neither  name  is 
known    to    the    inhabitants    of    New    Mexico.     If 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  24f3 

pate-shaven  Venabides  had  held  his  tongue,  New 
Mexico  might  now  be  in  the  peaceful  possession 
of  the  Catholic  Missions,  and  the  property  of  the 
Church  of  Mexico  pretty  considerably  enhanced 
by  the  valuable  placeres,  or  gold-washings,  which 
abound  in  that  province.  Full,  however,  of  the 
wonderful  miracle  of  Santa  Clara  of  Carmona, 
which  had  been  brought  to  light  through  the 
agency  of  the  medallion  at  the  end  of  his  rosario, 
Fray  Venabides  must  needs  return  to  Spain,  and 
humbug  poor  old  Fernando,  and  even  the  more 
sensible  Isabel,  with  wonderful  accounts  of  the 
riches  of  the  country  he  had  been  instrumental  in 
exploring,  and  of  the  excellent  disposition  of  the 
natives  to  receive  the  Word  of  God.  Don  Juan 
Onate  was  therefore  quickly  dispatched  to  take 
possession ;  and  in  his  train  followed  twelve  Cas- 
tilian  families  of  sangre  azul,  to  colonize  the  newly- 
acquired  territory.  The  names  of  these  still  re- 
main, disgraced  by  the  degenerate  wretches  who 
now  bear  them,  but  in  whom  scarce  a  drop  of  blood 
remains  which  ever  filtered  from  the  veins  of  the 
paladins  of  Old  Castile. 

Then  commenced  the  troublous  times.  The 
Missions  were  upheld  by  dint  of  steel  alone ;  and 
frequently  the  Indians  rose,  and  often  massacred 
their  white  persecutors.  The  colonists  were  more 
than  once  driven  bodily  from  New  Mexico,  and 
were  only  reinstated  by  the  aid  of  large  bodies  of 
armed  men. 


\ 

244  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

In  California,  however,  they  managed  these 
things  better.  The  wily  monks  took  care  to  keep 
all  interlopers  from  the  country,  established  them- 
selves in  snug  quarters,  instructed  the  Indians  in 
agriculture ;  and  soon  gained  such  an  ascendency 
over  them,  that  no  difficulty  was  experienced  in 
keeping  them  under  proper  and  wholesome  re- 
straint. Strong  and  commodious  Missions  were 
built  and  fortified,  well  stored  with  arms  and  am- 
munition, and  containing  sufficient  defenders  to 
defy  attack.  Luxuriant  gardens  and  thriving 
vineyards  soon  surrounded  these  isolated  stations : 
the  plains  waved  with  golden  corn  ;  whilst  domestic 
cattle,  thriving  on  the  rich  pasture,  and  roaming 
far  and  near,  multiplied  and  increased  a  hundred- 
fold. 

Nothing  can  be  more  beautiful  than  the  ap- 
pearance of  one  of  these  Missions,  to  the  traveler 
who  has  lately  passed  the  arid  and  barren  wilder- 
ness of  the  North-West.  The  adobe  walls  of  the 
convent-looking  building,  surmounted  by  cross  and 
belfry,  are  generally  hidden  in  a  mass  of  luxuriant 
vegetation.  Fig-trees,  bananas,  cherry,  and 
apple,  leaf-spreading  platanos,  and  groves  of 
olives,  form  umbrageous  vistas,  under  which  the 
sleek  monks  delight  to  wander;  gardens,  cultivated 
by  their  own  hands,  testify  to  the  horticultural 
skill  of  the  worthy  padres ;  whilst  vineyards  yield 
their  grateful  produce  to  gladden  the  hearts  of 
the  holy  exiles  in  these  western  solitudes.     Vast 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  M5 

herds  of  cattle  roam  half-wild  on  the  plains,  and 
bands  of  mules  and  horses,  whose  fame  has  even 
reached  the  distant  table-lands  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  and  excited  the  covetousness  of  the 
hunters  —  and  thousands  of  which,  from  the  day 
they  are  foaled  to  that  of  their  death,  never  feel 
a  saddle  on  their  backs  —  cover  the  country.  In- 
dians (Mansitos)  idle  round  the  skirts  of  these 
vast  herds  (whose  very  numbers  keep  them  to- 
gether), living,  at  their  own  choice,  upon  the  flesh 
of  mule,  or  ox,  or  horse. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  Mission  of  San  Fernando  is  situated 
on  a  small  river  called  Las  Animas,  a 
branch  of  the  Los  Martires.  The  con- 
vent is  built  at  the  neck  of  a  large  plain,  at 
the  point  of  influx  of  the  stream  from  the  broken 
spurs  of  the  sierra.  The  savanna  is  covered  with 
luxuriant  grass,  kept  down,  however,  by  the  count- 
less herds  of  cattle  which  pasture  on  it.  The 
banks  of  the  creek  are  covered  with  a  lofty  growth 
of  oak  and  poplar,  which,  near  the  Mission,  have 
been  considerably  thinned  for  the  purpose  of  af- 
fording fuel  and  building  materials  for  the  in- 
creasing settlement.  The  convent  stands  in  the 
midst  of  a  grove  of  fruit-trees,  its  rude  tower  and 
cross  peeping  above  them,  and  contrasting  pic- 
turesquely with  the  wildness  of  the  surrounding 
scenery.  Gardens  and  orchards  lie  immediately 
in  front  of  the  building,  and  a  vineyard  stretches 
away  to  the  upland  ridge  of  the  valley.  The  huts 
of  the  Indians  are  scattered  here  and  there,  built 
of  stone  and  adobe,  sometimes  thatched  with  flags 
and  boughs,  but  comfortable  enough.  The  con- 
vent itself  is  a  substantial  building,  of  the  style 

of   architecture    characterizing   monastic    edifices 
246 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  Ml 

in  most  parts  of  the  world.  Loopholes  peer  from 
its  plastered  walls,  and  on  a  flat  portion  of  the 
roof  a  comically-mounted  gingall  or  wall-piece, 
carrying  a  two-pound  ball,  threatens  the  assail- 
ant in  time  of  war.  At  one  end  of  the  oblong 
building,  a  rough  irregular  arch  of  sun-burned 
bricks  is  surmounted  by  a  rude  cross,  under  which 
hangs  a  small  but  deep-toned  bell  —  the  wonder 
of  the  Indian  peones,  and  highly  venerated  by  the 
frayles  themselves,  who  received  it  as  a  present 
from  a  certain  venerable  archbishop  of  Old  Spain, 
and  who,  whilst  guarding  it  with  reverential  awe, 
tell  wondrous  tales  of  its  adventures  on  the  road 
to  its  present  abiding-place. 

Of  late  years  the  number  of  the  canonical  in- 
mates of  the  convent  has  been  much  reduced  — 
there  being  but  four  priests  now  to  do  the  duties 
of  the  eleven  who  formerly  inhabited  it:  Fray 
Augustin,  a  capuchin  of  due  capacity  of  paunch, 
being  at  the  head  of  the  holy  quartette.  Augustin 
is  the  conventual  name  of  the  reverend  father,  who 
fails  not  to  impress  upon  such  casual  visitants  to 
that  ultima  Thude  as  he  deems  likely  to  appreciate 
the  information,  that,  but  for  his  humility,  he 
might  add  the  sonorous  appellations  of  Ignacio 
Sabanal-Morales-y  Fuentes  —  his  family  being  of 
the  best  blood  of  Old  Castile,  and  known  there  since 
the  days  of  Ruy  Gomez  —  el  —  Campeador  —  pos- 
sessing, moreover,  half  the  "  vega  "  of  the  Ebro, 
&c.,  where,  had  fate  been  propitious,  he  would  now 


MS  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

have  been  the  sleek  superior  of  a  rich  capuchin 
convent,  instead  of  vegetating,  a  leather-clad 
frayle,  in  the  wilds  of  California  Alta. 

Nevertheless,  his  lot  is  no  bad  one.  With 
plenty  of  the  best  and  fattest  meat  to  eat,  whether 
of  beef  or  venison,  of  bear  or  mountain  mutton; 
with  good  wine  and  brandy  of  home  make,  and 
plenty  of  it ;  fruit  of  all  climes  in  great  abundance ; 
wheaten  or  com  bread  to  suit  his  palate ;  a  tract- 
able flock  of  natives  to  guide,  and  assisted  in  the 
task  by  three  brother  shepherds ;  far  from  the 
strife  of  politics  or  party  —  secure  from  hostile 
attack  (not  quite,  by  the  by),  and  eating,  drink- 
ing, and  sleeping  away  his  time,  one  would  think 
that  Fray  Augustin  Ignacio  Sabanal-Morales-y 
Fuentes  had  little  to  trouble  him,  and  had  no  cause 
to  regret  even  the  vega  of  Castilian  Ebro,  held 
by  his  family  since  the  days  of  el  Campeador. 

One  evening  Fray  Augustin  sat  upon  an  adobe 
bench,  under  the  fig-tree  shadowing  the  porch  of 
the  Mission.  He  was  dressed  in  a  goat-skin  jer- 
kin, softly  and  beautifully  dressed,  and  descend- 
ing to  his  hips,  under  which  his  only  covering  — 
tell  it  not  in  Gath !  —  was  a  long  linen  shirt,  reach- 
ing to  his  knees,  and  lately  procured  from  Puebla 
de  los  Angeles,  as  a  sacerdotal  garment.  Boots, 
stockings,  or  unmentionables  he  had  none.  A 
cigarito,  of  tobacco  rolled  in  com  shuck,  was  oc- 
casionally placed  between  his  lips ;  whereupon 
huge  clouds  of  smoke  rushed  in  columns  from  his 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  249 

mouth  and  nostrils.  His  face  was  of  a  golden 
yellow  color,  relieved  by  arched  and  very  black 
eyebrows ;  his  shaven  chin  was  of  most  respectable 
duplicity  —  his  corporation  of  orthodox  dimen- 
sions. Several  Indians  and  half-bred  Mexican 
women  were  pounding  Indian  com  on  metates 
near  at  hand ;  whilst  sundry  beef-fed  urchins  of 
whitey-brown  complexion  sported  before  the  door, 
exhibiting,  as  they  passed  Fray  Augustin,  a  curi- 
ous resemblance  to  the  strongly-marked  features 
of  that  worthy  padre.  They  were  probably  his 
nieces  and  nephews  —  a  class  of  relations  often 
possessed  in  numbers  by  priests  and  monks. 

The  three  remaining  brothers  were  absent  from 
the  Mission:  Fray  Bernardo,  hunting  elk  in  the 
sierra ;  Fray  Jose,  gallivanting  at  Puebla  de  los 
Angeles,  ten  days'  journey  distant;  Fray  Cris- 
toval,  lassoing  colts  upon  the  plain.  Augustin, 
thus  left  to  his  own  resources,  had  just  eaten  his 
vespertine  frijolitos  and  chile  Colorado,  and  was 
enjoying  a  post-coenal  smoke  of  fragrant  pouche 
under  the  shadow  of  his  own  fig-tree. 

Whilst  thus  employed,  an  Indian  dressed  in 
Mexican  attire  approached  him  hat  in  hand,  and, 
making  a  reverential  bow,  asked  his  directions 
concerning  domestic  business  of  the  Mission. 

"  Hola !  friend  Jose,"  cried  Fray  Augustin,  in 
a  thick  guttural  voice,  '*  pensaba  yo  —  I  was 
thinking  that  it  was  very  nearly  this  time  three 
years  ago  when  those  malditos  Americanos  came 


wo  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

by  here  and  ran  off  with  so  many  of  our  caval- 
lada." 

"  True,  reverend  father,"  answered  the  admin- 
istrator, "just  three  years  ago,  all  but  fifteen 
days  :  I  remember  it  well.  Malditos  scan  -^ —  curse 
them !  " 

"  How  many  did  we  kill,  Jose?  " 

"  Quizas  TTWochos  —  a  great  many,  I  daresay. 
But  they  did  not  fight  fairly  —  charged  right 
upon  us,  and  gave  us  no  time  to  do  anytliing. 
They  don't  know  how  to  fight,  these  Mericanos ; 
come  right  at  you,  before  you  can  swing  a  lasso, 
hallooing  like  Indios  bravos." 

"  But,  Jose,  how  many  did  they  leave  dead  on 
the  field?" 

"  Not  one." 

"And  we?" 

"  Valgame  Dios!  thirteen  dead,  and  many  more 
wounded." 

"  That's  it !  Now  if  these  savages  come  again 
(and  the  Chemeguaba,  who  came  in  yesterday,  says 
he  saw  a  large  trail),  we  must  fight  adentro  — 
within  —  outside  is  no  go ;  for,  as  you  very  prop- 
erly say,  Jose,  these  Americans  don't  know  how  to 
fight,  and  kill  us  before  —  before  we  can  kill 
them !     Vaya!  " 

At  this  moment  there  issued  from  the  door  of 
the  Mission  Don  Antonio  Velez  Trueba,  a  Gachu- 
pin  —  that  is,  a  native  of  Old  Spain  —  a  wizened 
old  hidalgo  refugee,  who  had  left  the  mother  coun- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  251 

try  on  account  of  his  political  opinions,  which 
were  stanchlj-  Carlist,  and  had  found  his  way  — 
how,  he  himself  scarcely  knew  —  from  Mexico  to 
San  Francisco  in  Upper  California,  where,  hav- 
ing a  most  perfect  contempt  for  everything  Mexi- 
can, and  hearing  that  in  the  Mission  of  San  Fer- 
nando, far  away,  were  a  couple  of  Spanish  padres 
of  sangre  regular,  he  had  started  into  the  wilder- 
ness to  ferret  them  out ;  and  having  escaped  all 
dangers  on  the  route  (which,  however,  were  hardly 
dangers  to  the  Don,  who  could  not  realize  the  idea 
of  scalp-taking  savages),  had  arrived  with  a 
whole  skin  at  the  Mission.  There  he  was  received 
with  open  arms  by  his  countryman  Fray  Augus- 
tin,  who  made  him  welcome  to  all  the  place  af- 
forded, and  there  he  hannlessly  smoked  away  his 
time ;  his  heart  far  away  on  the  banks  of  the 
Genii  and  in  the  grape-bearing  vegas  of  his  be- 
loved Andalusia,  his  withered  cuerpo  in  the  sier- 
ras of  Upper  California.  Don  Antonio  was  the 
walking  essence  of  a  Spaniard  of  the  ancien 
regime.  His  family  dated  from  the  Flood,  and 
with  the  exception  of  sundry  refreshing  jets  of 
Moorish  blood,  injected  into  the  Truebas  during 
the  Moorish  epoch,  no  strange  shoot  was  ever 
engrafted  on  their  genealogical  tree.  The  mar- 
riages of  the  family  were  ever  confined  to  the  fam- 
ily itself  —  never  looking  to  fresh  blood  in  a  sta- 
tion immediately  below  it,  which  was  not  hidal- 
gueno ;  nor  above,  since  anything  higher  in  rank 


^2  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

than  the  Trueba  y  Trueba  family,  no  habia,  there 
was  not. 

Thus,  in  the  male  and  female  scions  of  the 
house,  were  plainly  visible  the  ill  effects  of  breed- 
ing "  in  and  in."  The  male  Truebas  were  sadly 
degenerate  Dons,  in  body  as  in  mind  —  compared 
to  their  ancestors  of  Boabdil's  day ;  and  the 
senoritas  of  the  name  were  all  eyes,  and  eyes  alone, 
and  hardly  of  such  stamp  as  would  have  tempted 
that  amorous  monarch  to  bestow  a  kingdom  for 
a  kiss,  as  ancient  ballads  tell. 

"  Du€na  de  la  negra  toca. 
For  un  beso  de  tu  boca, 

Diera  un  reyno^  Boabdil; 
Y  yo  por  ello,  Cristiana, 
Te  diera  de  buena  gana 

Mil  cielos,  si  fueran  jnU.** 

Come  of  such  poor  stock,  and  reared  on  to- 
bacco-smoke and  gazpacho,  Don  Antonio  would 
not  have  shone,  even  amongst  pigmy  Mexicans, 
for  physical  beauty.  Five  feet  high,  a  framework 
of  bones  covered  with  a  skin  of  Andalusian  tint,  the 
Trueba  stood  erect  and  stiff  in  all  the  conscious- 
ness of  his  sangre  regular.  His  features  were 
handsome,  but  entirely  devoid  of  flesh,  his  upper 
lip  was  covered  with  a  jet-black  mustache  mixed 
with  gray,  his  chin  was  bearded  "  like  the  pard." 
Every  one  around  him  clad  in  deer  and  goat  skin, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  253 

our  Don  walked  conspicuous  in  shining  suit  of 
black  —  much  the  worse  for  wear,  it  must  be  con- 
fessed —  with  beaver  hat  sadly  battered,  and 
round  his  body  and  over  his  shoulder  an  unexcep- 
tionable capa  of  the  amplest  dimensions.  Ask- 
ing, as  he  stepped  over  him,  the  pardon  of  an  In- 
dian urchin  who  blocked  the  door,  and  bowing 
with  punctilious  politeness  to  the  sturdy  mozas 
who  were  grinding  com,  Don  Antonio  approached 
our  friend  Augustin,  who  was  discussing  warlike 
matters  with  his  administrador. 

"  Hola !  Don  Antonio,  how  do  you  find  your- 
self, sir?  " 

*'  Perfectly  well,  and  your  very  humble  servant, 
reverend  father;  and  your  worsliip  also,  I  trust 
you  are  in  good  health?  " 

"  Sin  novedad  —  without  novelty  " ;  which, 
since  it  was  one  hour  and  a  half  since  our  friends 
had  separated  to  take  their  siestas,  was  not  im- 
possible. 

"  Myself  and  the  worthy  Jose,"  continued  Fray 
Augustin,  "  were  speaking  of  the  vile  invasion  of 
a  band  of  North  American  robbers,  who  three 
years  since  fiercely  assaulted  this  peaceful  Mis- 
sion, killing  many  of  its  inoffensive  inhabitants, 
wounding  many  more,  and  carrying  off  several  of 
our  finest  colts  and  most  promising  mules  to  their 
dens  and  caves  in  the  Rocky  Mountains.  Not 
with  impunity,  however,  did  they  effect  this  atroc- 


254  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ity.  Jose  informs  me  that  many  of  the  assail- 
ants were  killed  by  my  brave  Indians.  How  man}' 
said  you,  Jose?  " 

"  Quizas  mo-o-ochos,"  answered  the  Indian. 

"  Yes,  probably  a  great  multitude,"  continued 
the  padre ;  "  but,  unwarned  by  such  well-merited 
castigation,  it  has  been  reported  to  me  by  a 
Chemeguaba  mansito,  that  a  band  of  these  au- 
dacious marauders  are  now  on  the  road  to  repeat 
the  offense,  numbering  many  thousands,  well 
mounted  and  armed ;  and  to  oppose  these  white 
barbarians  it  behoves  us  to  make  every  prepara- 
tion of  defense."  * 

"  There  is  no  cause  for  alarm,"  answered  the 
Andaluz.  "I"  (tapping  his  breast)  "have 
served  in  three  wars:  in  that  glorious  one  de  la 
Independencia,  when  our  glorious  patriots  drove 
the  French  like  sheep  across  the  Pyrenees ;  in  that 
equally  glorious  one  of  1821 ;  and,  in  the  late 
magnanimous  struggle  for  the  legitimate  rights 
of  his  majesty  Charles  V.,  King  of  Spain  "  (doffing 
his  hat),  "  whom  God  preserve.  With  that  right 
arm,"  cried  the  spirited  Don,  extending  his  shriv- 
eled member,  "  I  have  supported  the  throne  of  my 
kings  —  have  fought  for  my  country,  mowing 
down  its  enemies  before  me ;  and  with  it,"  vehe- 
mently exclaimed  the  Gachupin,  working  himself 

*  From  the  report  to  the  Governor  of  California  by  the 
Head  of  the  Mission,  in  reference  to  the  attacks  by  the 
American  mountaineers. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  255 

into  a  perfect  frenzy,  "  I  will  slay  these  Norte 
Americanos,  should  they  dare  to  show  their  faces 
in  my  front.  Adios,  Don  Augustin  Ignacio 
Sabanal-Morales-y  Fuentes,"  he  cried,  doffing  his 
hat  with  an  earth-sweeping  bow ;  "  I  go  to  grind 
my  sword.     Till  then,  adieu." 

"  A  countryman  of  mine  1 "  said  the  frayle,  ad- 
miringly, to  the  administrador.  "  With  him  by 
our  side  we  need  not  to  fear :  neither  Norte  Ameri- 
canos, nor  the  devil  himself,  can  harm  us  when  he 
is  by." 

Whilst  the  Trueba  sharpens  his  Tizona,  and 
the  priest  puffs  volumes  of  smoke  from  his  nose 
and  mouth,  let  us  introduce  to  the  reader  one  of 
the  muchachitas,  who  knelt  grinding  corn  on  the 
metate,  to  make  tortillas  for  the  evening  meal. 
Juanita  was  a  stout  wench  from  Sonora,  of  Mex- 
ican blood,  hardly  as  dark  as  the  other  women  who 
surrounded  her,  and  with  a  drop  or  two  of  the 
Old  Spanish  blood  struggling  with  the  darker  In- 
dian tint  to  color  her  plump  cheeks.  An  enagua 
(a  short  petticoat)  of  red  serge  was  confined 
round  her  waist  by  a  gay  band  ornamented  with 
beads,  and  a  chemisette  covered  the  upper  part  of 
the  body,  permitting,  however,  a  prodigal  dis- 
play of  her  charms.  Whilst  pounding  sturdily  at 
the  corn,  she  laughed  and  joked  with  her  fellow- 
laborers  upon  the  anticipated  American  attack, 
which  appeared  to  have  but  few  terrors  for  her. 
"  Que  vengan,"  she  exclaimed  — "  let  them  come ; 


266  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

they  are  only  men,  and  will  not  molest  us  women. 
Besides,  I  have  seen  these  white  men  before,  in 
my  own  country,  and  they  are  fine  fellows,  very 
tall,  and  as  white  as  the  snow  on  the  sierras.  Let 
them  come,  say  I !  " 

"  Only  hear  the  girl ! "  cried  another :  "  if  these 
savages  come,  then  will  they  kill  Pedrillo,  and  what 
will  Juanita  say  to  lose  her  sweetheart?" 

"  Pedrillo !  "  sneered  the  latter ;  "  what  care  I 
for  Pedrillo  ?  Soy,  Mejicana,  yo  —  a  Mexican 
girl  am  I,  I'd  have  you  know,  and  don't  demean  me 
to  look  at  a  wild  Indian.  Not  I,  indeed,  by  my 
salvation !  What  I  say  is,  let  the  Norte  Ameri- 
canos come." 

At  this  juncture  Fray  Augustin  called  for  a 
glass  of  aguardiente,  which  Juanita  was  dis- 
patched to  bring,  and,  on  presenting  it,  the 
churchman  facetiously  inquired  why  she  wished  for 
the  Americans,  adding,  "  Don't  think  they'll  come 
here  —  no,  no :  here  we  are  brave  men,  and  have 
Don  Antonio  with  us,  a  noble  fellow,  well  used  to 
arms."  As  the  words  were  on  his  lips,  the  clat- 
tering of  a  horse's  hoofs  was  heard  rattling  across 
the  loose  stones  and  pebbles  in  the  bed  of  the 
river,  and  presently  an  Indian  herder  galloped  up 
to  the  door  of  the  Mission,  his  horse  covered  with 
foam,  and  its  sides  bleeding  from  spur-wounds. 

"  O,  padre  mio!  "  he  cried,  as  soon  as  he  caught 
sight  of  his  reverence,  "  vienen  los  Americanos  — 
the  Americans,  the  Americans  are  upon  us.     Ave 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  257 

Maria  purissima!  —  more  than  ten  thosuand  are 
at  mj  heels !  " 

Up  started  the  priest  and  shouted  for  the  Don. 

That  hidalgo  presently  appeared,  armed  with 
the  sword  that  had  graced  his  thigh  in  so  many 
glorious  encounters  —  the  sword  with  which  he 
liad  mowed  down  the  enemies  of  his  country,  and 
by  whose  aid  he  now  proposed  to  annihilate  the 
American  savages,  should  they  dare  to  appear 
before  him. 

The  alarm  was  instantly  given ;  peones,  vaque- 
ros  hurried  from  the  plains ;  and  milpas,  warned 
by  the  deep-toned  bell,  which  soon  rung  out  its 
sonorous  alarum.  A  score  of  mounted  Indians, 
armed  with  gun  and  lasso,  dashed  off  to  bring  in- 
telligence of  the  enemy.  The  old  gingall  on  the 
roof  was  crammed  with  powder  and  bullets  to  the 
very  muzzle,  by  the  frayle's  own  hand.  Arms 
were  brought  and  piled  in  the  sala,  ready  for  use. 
The  padre  exhorted,  the  women  screamed,  the  men 
grew  pale  and  nervous,  and  thronged  within  the 
walls.  Don  Antonio,  the  fiery  Andaluz,  alone  re- 
mained outside,  flourishing  his  whetted  saber,  and 
roaring  to  the  padre,  who  stood  on  the  roof  with 
lighted  match,  by  the  side  of  his  formidable  can- 
non, not  to  be  affrighted  — "  that  he,  the  Trueba, 
was  there,  with  his  Tizona,  ready  to  defeat  the 
devil  himself  should  he  come  on." 

He  was  deaf  to  the  entreaties  of  the  priest  to 
enter. 


258  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

"  Siempre  en  el  f rente  —  Ever  in  the  van,"  he 
said,  "  was  the  war-cry  of  the  Truebas." 

But  now  a  cloud  of  dust  was  seen  approaching 
from  the  plain,  and  presently  a  score  of  horsemen 
dashed  headlong  towards  the  Mission.  "  El 
enemigo!  "  shouted  Fray  Augustin;  and,  without 
waiting  to  aim,  he  clapped  his  match  to  the  touch- 
hole  of  the  gun,  harmlessly  pointed  to  the  sky,  and 
cr3dng  out,  "  in  el  nombre  de  D'los  " —  in  God's 
name  —  as  he  did  so,  was  instantly  knocked  over 
and  over  by  the  recoil  of  the  piece,  then  was  as 
instantly  seized  by  some  of  the  Indian  garrison, 
and  forced  through  the  trap-door  into  the  build- 
ing; whilst  the  horsemen  (who  were  his  own  scouts) 
galloped  up  with  the  intelligence  that  the  enemy 
was  at  hand,  and  in  overwhelming  force. 

Thereupon  the  men  were  all  mounted,  and 
formed  in  a  body  before  the  building,  to  the  amount 
of  more  than  fifty,  well  armed  with  guns  or  bows 
and  arrows.  Here  the  gallant  Don  harangued 
them,  and  infusing  into  their  hearts  a  little  of  his 
own  courage,  they  eagerly  demanded  to  be  led 
against  the  enemy.  Fray  Augustin  reappeared 
on  the  roof,  gave  them  his  blessing,  advised  them 
to  give  no  quarter,  and,  with  slight  misgivings, 
saw  them  ride  off  to  the  conflict. 

About  a  mile  from  the  Mission,  the  plain  grad- 
ually ascended  to  a  ridge  of  moderate  elevation, 
on  which  was  a  growth  of  dwarf  oak  and  ilex. 
To  this  point  the  eyes  of  the  remaining  inmates 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  259 

of  the  convent  were  earnestly  directed,  as  here  the 
enemy  was  first  expected  to  make  his  appearance. 
Presently  a  few  figures  were  seen  to  crown  the 
ridge,  clearly  defined  against  the  clear  evening 
sky.  Not  more  than  a  dozen  mounted  men  com- 
posed this  party,  which  all  imagined  must  be 
doubtless  the  vanguard  of  the  thousand  invaders. 
On  the  summit  of  the  ridge  they  halted  a  few  min- 
utes, as  if  to  reconnoiter ;  and  by  this  time  the 
California  horsemen  were  halted  in  the  plain,  mid- 
way between  the  Mission  and  the  ridge,  and  dis- 
tant from  the  former  less  than  half-a-mile,  so  that 
all  the  operations  were  clearly  visible  to  the  lookers 
on. 

The  enemy  wound  slowly,  in  Indian  file,  down 
the  broken  ground  of  the  descent ;  but  when  the 
plain  was  reached,  they  formed  into  something 
like  a  line,  and  trotted  fearlessly  towards  the 
Califomians.  These  began  to  sit  uneasily  in  their 
saddles ;  nevertheless  they  made  a  forward  move- 
ment, and  even  broke  into  a  gallop,  but  soon 
halted,  and  again  huddled  together.  Then  the 
mountaineers  quickened  their  pace,  and  their  loud 
shout  was  heard  as  they  dashed  into  the  middle 
of  the  faltering  troop.  The  sharp  cracks  of  the 
rifles  followed,  and  the  duller  reports  of  the  smooth- 
bored  pieces  of  the  Califomians ;  a  cloud  of  smoke 
and  dust  arose  from  the  plain,  and  immediately 
half-a-dozen  horses,  with  empty  saddles,  broke 
from  it,  followed  quickly  by  the  Califomians,  fly- 


260  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ing  like  mad  across  the  level.  The  little  steady 
line  of  the  mountaineers  advanced,  and  puffs  of 
smoke  arose  as  they  loaded  and  discharged  their 
rifles  at  the  flying  horsemen.  As  the  Americans 
came  on,  however,  one  was  seen  to  totter  in  his  sad- 
dle, the  rifle  fell  from  his  grasp,  and  he  tumbled 
headlong  to  the  ground.  For  an  instant  his  com- 
panions surrounded  the  fallen  man,  but  again 
forming,  dashed  towards  the  Mission,  shouting 
fierce  war-whoops,  and  brandishing  aloft  their 
long  and  heavy  rifles.  Of  the  defeated  Califor- 
nians  some  jumped  off  their  horses  at  the  door  of 
the  Mission,  and  sought  shelter  within ;  others  gal- 
loped off  towards  the  sierra  in  panic-stricken 
plight.  Before  the  gate,  however,  still  paced 
valiantly  the  proud  hidalgo,  encumbered  with  his 
cloak,  and  waving  with  difficulty  his  sword  above 
his  head.  To  the  priest  and  women,  who  implored 
him  to  enter,  he  replied  with  cries  of  defiance, 
"  Viva  Carlos  Quintol  "  and  "  Death  or  glory ! " 
He  shouted  in  vain  to  the  flying  crowd  to  halt; 
but,  seeing  their  panic  was  beyond  hope,  he 
clutched  his  weapon  more  firmly  as  the  Americans 
dashed  at  him,  closed  his  teeth  and  his  eyes, 
thought  once  of  the  vega  of  his  beloved  Genii,  and 
of  Granada  la  Florida,  and  gave  himself  up  for 
lost.  Those  inside  the  Mission,  when  they  ob- 
served the  flight  of  their  cavalry,  gave  up  the  de- 
fense as  hopeless ;  and  already  the  charging  moun- 
taineers were  almost  under  the  walls,  when  they 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  261 

observed  the  curious  figure  of  the  little  Don  mak- 
ing demonstrations  of  hostility. 

"  Wagh !  "  exclaimed  the  leading  hunter  (no 
other  than  our  friend  La  Bonte),  "  here's  a  little 
critter  as  means  to  do  all  the  fighting  " ;  and  seiz- 
ing his  rifle  by  the  barrel,  he  poked  at  the  Don 
with  the  butt-end,  who  parried  the  blow,  and  with 
such  a  sturdy  stroke,  as  nearly  severed  the  stock 
in  two.  Another  mountaineer  rode  up,  and, 
swinging  his  lasso  overhead,  threw  the  noose  dex- 
terously over  the  Spaniard's  head,  and  as  it  fell 
over  his  shoulders,  drew  it  taut,  thus  securing  the 
arms  of  the  pugnacious  Don  as  in  a  vice. 

"  Quartel!  "  cried  the  latter ;  "  por  Dios,  quar- 
teU  '* 

"  Quarter   be   d !  "    exclaimed    one    of   the 

whites,  who  understood  Spanish ;  "  who's  a-goin' 
to  hurt  you,  you  little  critter?  " 

By  this  time  Fray  Augustin  was  waving  a  white 
flag  from  the  roof,  in  token  of  surrender ;  and  soon 
after  he  appeared  trembling  at  the  door,  beseech- 
ing the  victors  to  be  merciful  and  to  spare  the 
lives  of  the  vanquished,  when  all  and  everything  in 
the  Mission  would  be  freely  placed  at  their  dis- 
posal. 

"What  does  the  nigger  say.?"  asked  old 
Walker,  the  leader  of  the  mountaineers,  of  the  in- 
terpreter. 

"  Well,  he  talks  so  queer,  this  boss  can't  rightly 
make  it  out." 


£62  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

"  Tell  the  old  coon  then  to  quit  that,  and  make 
them  darned  greasers  clear  out  of  tlie  lodge,  and 
pock  some  corn  and  shucks  here  for  the  animals, 
for  they're  nigh  give  out." 

This  being  conveyed  to  him  in  mountain  Span- 
ish, which  fear  alone  made  him  understand,  the 
padre  gave  orders  to  the  men  to  leave  the  Mission, 
advising  them,  moreover,  not  to  recommence  hos- 
tilities, as  himself  was  kept  as  hostage,  and  if  a 
finger  was  lifted  against  the  mountaineers,  he 
would  be  killed  at  once,  and  the  Mission  burned  to 
the  ground.  Once  inside,  the  hunters  had  no  fear 
of  attack  —  they  could  have  kept  the  building 
against  all  California ;  so,  leaving  a  guard  of  two 
outside  the  gate,  and  first  seeing  their  worn-out 
animals  supplied  with  piles  of  corn  and  shucks, 
they  made  themselves  at  home,  and  soon  were  pay- 
ing attention  to  the  hot  tortillas,  meat,  and  chile 
Colorado  which  were  quickly  placed  before  them, 
washing  down  the  hot-spiced  viands  with  deep 
draughts  of  wine  and  brandy.  It  would  have  been 
amusing  to  have  seen  the  faces  of  these  rough 
fellows  as  they  gravely  pledged  each  other  in  the 
grateful  liquor,  and  looked  askance  at  the  piles 
of  fruit  served  by  the  attendant  Hebes.  These 
came  in  for  no  little  share  of  attention,  it  may  be 
imagined,  but  the  utmost  respect  was  paid  to  them ; 
for  your  mountaineer,  rough  and  bear-like  though 
he  be,  never  by  word  or  deed  offends  the  modesty 
of  a  woman,  although  sometimes  obliged  to  use  a 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  263 

compulsory  wooing,  when  time  is  not  allowed  foi 
regular  courtship,  and  not  unfrequently  is  known 
to  jerk  a  New  Mexican  or  Califomian  beauty  be- 
hind his  saddle,  should  the  obdurate  parents  re- 
fuse consent  to  their  immediate  union.  It  tickled 
the  Americans  not  a  little  to  have  all  their  wants 
supplied,  and  to  be  thus  waited  upon,  by  what 
they  considered  the  houris  of  paradise ;  and  after 
their  long  journey,  and  the  many  hardships  and 
privations  they  had  suffered,  their  present  luxu- 
rious situation  seemed  scarcely  real. 

The  hidalgo,  released  from  the  durance  vile  of 
the  lasso,  assisted  at  the  entertainment ;  his  sense 
of  what  was  due  to  the  sangre  regular  which  ran 
in  his  veins  being  appeased  by  the  fact  that  he 
sat  above  the  wild  uncouth  mountaineers,  these 
preferring  to  squat  cross-legged  on  the  floor  in 
their  own  fashion,  to  the  uncomfortable  and  novel 
luxury  of  a  chair.  Killbuck,  indeed,  seemed  to 
have  quite  forgotten  the  use  of  such  pieces  of 
furniture.  On  Fray  Augustin  offering  him  one, 
and  begging  him,  with  many  protestations,  to  be 
seated,  that  old  mountain  worthy  looked  at  it, 
and  then  at  the  padre,  turned  it  round,  and  at 
length,  comprehending  the  intention,  essayed  to 
sit.  This  he  effected  at  last,  and  sat  grimly  for 
some  moments,  when,  seizing  the  chair  by  the 
back,  he  hurled  it  out  of  the  open  door,  exclaim- 
ing,— "  Wagh !  this  coon  ain't  hamshot  anyhow, 
and  don't  want  such  fixins,  he  don't ;  "  and  gather- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ing  his  legs  under  his  body,  reclined  in  the  man- 
ner customary  to  him.  There  was  a  prodigious 
quantity  of  liquor  consumed  that  night,  the 
hunters  making  up  for  their  many  banyans ;  but 
as  it  was  the  pure  juice  of  the  grape,  it  had  little 
or  no  effect  upon  their  hard  heads.  They  had 
not  much  to  fear  from  attacks  on  the  part  of  the 
Californians ;  but,  to  provide  against  all  emergen- 
cies, the  padre  and  the  Gachupin  were  "  hobbled," 
and  confined  in  an  inner  room,  to  which  there  was 
no  ingress  nor  egress  save  through  the  door  wliich 
opened  into  the  apartment  where  the  mountaineers 
lay  sleeping,  two  of  the  number  keeping  watch. 
A  fandango  with  the  Indian  girls  had  been  pro- 
posed by  some  of  them,  but  Walker  placed  a  de- 
cided veto  on  this.  He  said  "  they  had  need  of 
sleep  now,  for  there  was  no  knowing  what  to-mor- 
row might  bring  forth;  that  they  had  a  long  jour- 
ney before  them,  and  winter  was  coming  on ;  they 
would  have  to  streak  it  night  and  day,  and  sleep 
when  their  journey  was  over,  which  would  not  be 
until  Pike's  Peak  was  left  behind  them.  It  was 
now  October,  and  the  way  they'd  have  to  hump  it 
back  to  the  mountains  would  take  the  gristle  off  a 
painter's  tail." 

Young  Ned  Wooton  was  not  to  the  fore  when 
the  roll  was  called.  He  was  courting  the  Sonora 
wench  Juanita,  and  to  some  purpose,  for  we  may 
at  once  observe  that  the  maiden  accompanied  the 
mountaineer  to  his  distant  home,  and  at  the  pres- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  265 

ent  moment  is  sharing  his  lodge  on  Hard-scrabble 
creek  of  the  upper  Arkansa,  having  been  duly 
and  legally  married  by  Fray  Augustin  before 
their  departure. 

But  now  the  snow  on  the  ridge  of  the  Sierra 
Madre,  and  the  nightly  frosts ;  the  angular  flights 
of  geese  and  ducks  constantly  passing  overhead; 
the  sober  tints  of  the  foliage,  and  the  dead  leaves 
that  strew  the  ground ;  the  withering  grass  on  the 
plain,  and  the  cold  gusts,  sometimes  laden  with 
snow  and  sleet,  that  sweep  from  the  distant  snow- 
clad  mountains ;  —  all  these  signs  warn  us  to 
linger  no  longer  in  the  tempting  valley  of  San 
Fernando,  but  at  once  to  pack  our  mules  to  cross 
the  dreary  and  desert  plains  and  inhospitable 
sierras ;  and  to  seek  with  our  booty  one  of  the 
sheltered  bayous  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

On  the  third  day  after  their  arrival,  behold  our 
mountaineers  again  upon  the  march,  driving  be- 
fore them  —  with  the  assistance  of  half-a-dozen 
Indians  impressed  for  the  first  few  days  of  the 
journey  until  the  cavallada  get  accustomed  to 
travel  without  confusion  —  a  band  of  four  hun- 
dred head  of  mules  and  horses,  themselves  mounted 
on  the  strongest  and  fleetest  they  could  select  from 
at  least  a  thousand. 

Fray  Augustin  and  the  hidalgo,  from  the  house- 
top, watched  them  depart  —  the  former  glad  to 
get  rid  of  such  unscrupulous  guests  at  any  cost, 
the  latter  rather  loath  to  part  with  his  boon  com- 


^66  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

panlons,  with  whom  he  had  quaffed  many  a  quar- 
tillo  of  Californian  wine.  Great  was  the  grief, 
and  violent  the  sobbing,  when  all  the  girls  in  the 
Mission  surrounded  Juanita  to  bid  her  adieu,  as 
Bhe,  seated  en  cavalier  on  an  easy-pacing  mule,  be- 
queathed her  late  companions  to  the  keeping  of 
every  saint  in  the  calendar,  and  particularly  to 
^he  great  St,  Ferdinand  himself,  under  whose  espe- 
cial tutelage  all  those  in  the  Mission  were  sup- 
posed to  live.  Pedrillo  —  poor  forsaken  Pedrillo 
—  a  sullen  sulky  half-breed,  was  overcome,  not 
with  grief,  but  with  anger  at  the  slight  put  upon 
him,  and  vowed  revenge.  He  of  the  sangre  regu- 
lar, having  not  a  particle  of  enmity  in  his  heart, 
waved  his  arm  —  that  ami  with  which  he  had 
mowed  down  the  enemies  of  Carlos  Quinto  —  and 
requested  the  mountaineers,  if  ever  fate  should 
carry  them  to  Spain,  not  to  fail  to  visit  his  quinta 
in  the  vega  of  Genii,  which,  with  all  in  it,  he  placed 
at  their  worship's  disposal  —  con  muchissima 
franqueza. 

Fat  Fray  Augustin  likewise  waved  his  arm,  but 
groaned  in  spirit  as  he  beheld  the  noble  band  of 
mules  and  horses  throwing  back  clouds  of  dust  on 
the  plain  where  they  had  been  bred.  One  noble 
roan  stallion  seemed  averse  to  leave  his  accus- 
tomed pasture,  and  again  and  again  broke  away 
from  the  band.  Luckily  old  Walker  had  taken 
the  precaution  to  secure  the  bell-mare  of  the  herd, 
and  mounted  on  her  rode  ahead,  the  animals  all 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  267 

following  their  well-known  leader.  As  the  roan 
galloped  back,  the  padre  was  in  ecstasy.  It  was 
a  favorite  steed,  and  one  he  would  have  gladly  ran- 
somed at  any  price. 

"  Ya  tnene,  ya  vieneJ  "  he  cried  out,  "  now,  now 
it's  coming !  hurrah  for  the  roan !  "  but,  under  the 
rifle  of  a  mountaineer,  one  of  the  Califomians 
dashed  at  it,  a  lasso  whirling  round  his  head,  and 
turning  and  twisting  like  a  doubling  hare,  as  the 
horse  tried  to  avoid  him,  at  last  threw  the  open 
coil  over  the  animal's  head,  and  led  him  back  in 
triumph  to  the  band. 

*'  Maldito  sea  aquel  Indio  —  curse  that  In- 
dian !  "  quoth  the  padre,  and  turned  away. 

And  now  our  sturdy  band  —  less  two  who  had 
gone  under  —  were  fairly  on  their  way.  They 
passed  the  body  of  their  comrade  who  had  been 
killed  in  the  fight  before  the  Mission;  the  wolves, 
or  Indian  dogs,  had  picked  it  to  the  bones ;  but  a 
mound  near  by,  surmounted  by  a  rude  cross, 
showed  where  the  Califomians  (seven  of  whom 
were  killed)  had  been  interred  —  the  pile  of  stones 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross  testifying  that  many  an 
ave  maria  had  already  been  said  by  the  poor  In- 
dians, to  save  the  souls  of  their  slaughtered  com- 
panions from  the  pangs  of  purgatory. 

For  the  first  few  days  progress  was  slow  and 
tedious.  The  confusion  attendant  upon  driving 
so  large  a  number  of  animals  over  a  country  with- 
out trail  or  track  of  any  description,  was  suf- 


^68  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ficient  to  prevent  speedy  traveling;  and  the  moun- 
taineers, desirous  of  improving  the  pace,  resolved 
to  pursue  a  course  more  easterly,  and  to  endeavor 
to  strike  the  great  Spanish  Trail,  which  is  the 
route  followed  by  the  New  Mexicans  in  their  jour- 
neys to  and  from  the  towns  of  Puebla  de  los  An- 
geles and  Santa  Fe.  This  road,  however,  crosses 
a  long  stretch  of  desert  country,  destitute  alike 
of  grass  and  water,  save  at  a  few  points,  the 
regular  halting-places  of  the  caravans ;  and  as 
but  little  pasture  is  to  be  found  at  these  places  at 
any  time,  there  was  great  reason  to  fear,  if  the 
Santa  Fe  traders  had  passed  this  season,  that 
there  would  not  be  sufficient  grass  to  support  the 
numerous  cavallada,  after  the  herbage  had  been 
laid  under  contribution  by  the  traders'  animals. 
However,  a  great  saving  of  time  would  be  effected 
by  taking  this  trail,  although  it  wound  a  consider- 
able distance  out  of  the  way  to  avoid  the  impass- 
able chain  of  the  Sierra  Nevada  —  the  gap  in 
those  mountains  through  which  the  Americans  had 
come  being  far  to  the  northward,  and  at  this  late 
^season  probably  obstructed  by  the  snow. 

Urged  by  threats  and  bribes,  one  of  the  Indians 
agreed  to  guide  the  cavallada  to  the  trail,  which 
he  declared  was  not  more  than  five  days  distant. 
As  they  advanced,  the  country  became  wilder  and 
more  sterile, —  the  valleys  through  which  several 
small  streams  coursed  alone  being  capable  of  sup- 
porting so  large  a  number  of  animals.     No  time 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  269 

was  lost  in  hunting  for  game;  the  poorest  of  the 
mules  and  horses  were  killed  for  provisions,  and 
the  diet  was  improved  by  a  little  venison  when  a 
deer  casually  presented  itself  near  the  camping- 
ground.  Of  Indians  they  had  seen  not  one ;  but 
they  now  approached  the  country  of  the  Diggers, 
who  infest  tihe  district  through  which  the  Spanish 
trail  passes,  laying  contributions  on  the  caravans 
of  traders,  and  who  have  been,  not  inaptly,  termed 
the  "  Arabs  of  the  American  desert."  The  Cali- 
fomian  guide  now  earnestly  entreated  permission 
to  retrace  his  steps,  saying  that  he  should  lose  his 
life  if  he  attempted  to  pass  the  Digger  country 
alone  on  his  return.  He  pointed  to  a  snow-cov- 
ered peak,  at  the  foot  of  which  the  trail  passed; 
and  leave  being  accorded,  he  turned  his  horse's 
head  towards  the  Mission  of  San  Fernando. 

Although  the  cavallada  traveled,  by  this  time, 
with  much  less  confusion  than  at  first,  still,  from 
the  want  of  a  track  to  follow,  great  trouble  and 
exertion  were  required  to  keep  the  proper  direc- 
tion. The  bell-mare  led  the  van  carrying  Walker, 
who  was  better  acquainted  with  the  country  than 
the  others  ;  another  hunter  of  considerable  distinc- 
tion in  the  band,  on  a  large  mule,  rode  by  his  side. 
Then  followed  the  cavallada,  jumping  and  frisk- 
ing with  each  other,  stopping  whenever  a  blade  of 
grass  showed,  and  constantly  endeavoring  to 
break  away  to  green  patches  which  sometimes  pre- 
sented themselves  in  the  plains.     Behind  the  troop, 


270  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

urg-ing  them  on  by  dint  of  loud  cries  and  objurga- 
tions, rode  six  mountaineers,  keeping  as  much  as 
possible  in  a  line.  Two  others  were  on  each  flank 
to  repress  all  attempts  to  wander,  and  keep  the 
herd  in  a  compact  body.  In  this  order  the  cara- 
van had  been  crossing  a  broken  country,  up  and 
down  ridges,  all  day,  the  animals  giving  infinite 
trouble  to  their  drivers,  when  a  loud  shout  from 
the  advanced  guard  put  them  all  upon  the  qui-vive. 
Old  Walker  was  seen  to  brandish  the  rifle  over 
his  head  and  point  before  him,  and  presently  the 
cry  of  "  The  trail !  the  trail ! "  gladdened  all 
hearts  with  the  anticipation  of  a  respite  from  the 
harassing  labor  of  mule-driving.  Descending  a 
broken  ridge,  they  at  once  struck  into  a  distinct 
and  tolerably  well-worn  track,  into  which  the 
cavallada  turned  as  easily  and  instinctively  as  if 
they  had  all  their  lives  been  accustomed  to  travel 
on  beaten  roads.  Along  this  they  traveled  mer- 
rily —  their  delight  being,  however,  alloyed  by 
frequent  indications  that  hunger  and  thirst  had 
done  their  work  on  the  mules  and  horses  of  the 
caravans  which  had  preceded  them  on  the  trail. 
They  happened  to  strike  it  in  the  center  of  a  long 
stretch  of  desert,  extending  sixty  miles  without 
either  water  or  pasture;  and  many  animals  had 
perished  here,  leaving  their  bones  to  bleach  upon 
the  plain.  The  soil  was  sandy,  but  rocks  and 
stones  covered  the  surface,  disabling  the  feet  of 
many  of  the  young  horses  and  mules,  several  of 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  271 

which,  at  this  early  stage  of  the  journey,  were  al- 
ready abandoned.  Traces  of  the  wretched  Dig- 
gers became  very  frequent;  these  abject  creatures 
resorting  to  the  sandy  plains  for  the  purpose  of 
feeding  upon  the  lizards  which  there  abound.  As 
yet  they  did  not  show ;  only  at  night  they  prowled 
around  the  camp,  waiting  a  favorable  opportunity 
to  run  the  animals.  In  the  present  instance,  how- 
ever, many  of  the  horses  having  been  left  on  the 
road,  the  Diggers  found  so  plentiful  a  supply  of 
meat  as  to  render  unnecessary  any  attack  upon  the 
formidable  mountaineers. 

One  evening  the  Americans  had  encamped, 
earlier  than  usual,  on  a  creek  well  timbered  with 
willow  and  quaking-ash,  and  affording  tolerable 
pasture ;  and  although  it  was  still  rather  early, 
they  determined  to  stop  here,  and  give  the  animals 
an  opportunity  to  fill  themselves.  Several  deer 
had  jumped  out  of  the  bottom  as  they  entered  it; 
and  La  Bonte  and  Killbuck  had  sallied  from  the 
camp  with  their  rifles  to  hunt,  and  endeavor  to 
procure  some  venison  for  supper.  Along  the 
river-banks  herds  of  deer  were  feeding  in  every 
direction,  within  shot  of  the  belt  of  timber ;  and  the 
two  hunters  had  no  difficulty  in  approaching  and 
knocking  over  two  fine  bucks  within  a  few  paces 
of  the  thicket.  They  were  engaged  in  butchering 
the  animals,  when  La  Bonte,  looking  up  from  his 
work,  saw  half-a-dozen  Indians  dodging  among 
the  trees,  within  a  few  yards  of  himself  and  Kill- 


272  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

buck.  At  the  same  instant  two  arrows  thudded 
into  the  carcass  of  the  deer  over  which  he  knelt, 
passing  but  a  few  inches  from  his  head.  Halloo- 
ing to  his  companion,  La  Bonte  immediately  seized 
the  deer,  and,  lifting  it  with  main  strength,  held 
it  as  a  shield  before  him,  but  not  before  an  arrow 
had  struck  him  in  the  shoulder.  Rising  from  the 
ground  he  retreated  behind  cover,  yelling  loudly 
to  alarm  the  camp,  which  was  not  five  hundred 
yards  distant  on  the  other  side  of  the  stream. 
Killbuck,  when  apprised  of  the  danger,  ran  bodily 
into  the  plain,  and,  keeping  out  of  shot  of  the 
timber,  joined  La  Bonte,  who,  now  out  of  arrow- 
shot,  threw  down  his  shield  of  venison  and  fired  his 
rifle  at  the  assailants.  The  Indians  appeared  at 
first  afraid  to  leave  the  cover;  but  three  or  four 
more  joining  them,  one  a  chief,  they  advanced  into 
the  plain  with  drawn  bows,  scattering  wide  apart, 
and  running  swiftly  towards  the  whites  in  a  zig- 
zag course,  in  order  not  to  present  a  steady  mark 
to  their  unerring  rifles.  The  latter  were  too  cau- 
tious to  discharge  their  pieces,  but  kept  a  steady 
front,  with  rifle  at  shoulder.  The  Indians  evi- 
dently disliked  to  approach  nearer;  but  the  chief, 
an  old  grizzled  man,  incited  them  by  word  and  ges- 
ture —  running  in  advance  and  calling  upon  the 
others  to  follow  him. 

"  Ho,  boy ! "  exclaimed  Killbuck  to  his  com- 
panion, "  that  old  coon  must  go  under,  or  we'll 
get  rubbed  out  by  these  darned  critters." 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  273 

La  Bonte  understood  him.  Squatting  on  the 
ground  he  planted  his  wiping-stick  firmly  at  the 
extent  of  his  left  arm,  and  resting  the  long  barrel 
of  his  rifle  on  his  left  hand,  which  was  supported 
by  the  stick,  he  took  a  steady  aim  and  fired.  The 
Indian,  throwing  out  his  arms,  staggered  and  let 
fall  his  bow  —  tried  hard  to  recover  himself,  and 
then  fell  forward  on  his  face.  The  others,  seeing 
the  death  of  their  chief,  turned  and  made  again 
for  the  cover.  "  You  darned  critters,"  roared 
Killbuck,  "  take  that !  "  and  fired  his  rifle  at  the 
last  one,  tumbling  him  over  as  dead  as  a  stone. 
The  camp  had  also  been  alarmed.  Five  of  them 
waded  across  the  creek  and  took  the  Indians  in 
rear;  their  rifles  cracked  within  the  timber,  sev- 
eral more  Indians  fell,  and  the  rest  quickly  beat  a 
retreat.  The  venison,  however,  was  not  for- 
gotten; the  two  deer  were  packed  into  camp,  and 
did  the  duty  of  mule-meat  that  night. 

This  lesson  had  a  seasonable  eff^ect  upon  the 
Diggers,  who  made  no  attempt  on  the  cavallada 
that  night  or  the  next,  for  the  camp  remained  two 
days  to  recruit  the  animals. 

We  will  not  follow  the  party  through  all  the 
difficulties  and  perils  of  the  desert  route,  nor  de- 
tail the  various  devilries  of  the  Diggers,  who  con- 
stantly sought  opportunities  to  stampede  the  ani- 
mals, or,  approaching  them  in  the  night  as  they 
grazed,  fired  their  arrows  indiscriminate!}'  at  the 
herd,  trusting  that  dead  or  disabled  ones  would  be 


274  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

left  behind,  and  afford  them  a  good  supply  of 
meat.  In  the  month  of  December  the  mountain- 
eers crossed  the  great  dividing  ridge  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  making  their  way  through  the  snowy 
barrier  with  the  utmost  difficulty,  and  losing  many 
mules  and  horses  in  the  attempt.  On  passing  the 
ridge,  they  at  once  struck  the  head-springs  of  the 
Arkansa  river,  and  turned  into  the  Bayou  Salade. 
Here  they  found  a  village  of  Arapahos,  and  were 
in  no  little  fear  of  leaving  their  cavallada  with 
these  dexterous  horse-thieves.  Fortunately  the 
chief  in  command  was  friendly  to  the  whites,  and 
restrained  his  young  men ;  and  a  present  of  three 
horses  insured  his  good  offices.  Still,  the  near 
neighborhood  of  these  Indians  being  hardly  desir- 
able, after  a  few  days'  halt  the  Americans  were 
again  on  their  way,  and  halted  finally  at  the  junc- 
ture of  the  Fontaine-qui-bouille  with  the  Arkansa, 
where  they  determined  to  construct  a  winter  camp. 
They  now  considered  themselves  at  home,  and  at 
once  set  about  building  a  log  shanty  capable  of 
containing  them  all,  and  a  large  corral  for  se- 
curing the  animals  at  night,  or  in  case  of  Indian 
alarms.  This  they  effected  by  felling  several 
large  cottonwoods,  and  throwing  them  in  the  form 
of  a  horse-shoe:  the  entrance,  however,  being  nar- 
rower than  in  that  figure,  and  secured  by  upright 
logs,  between  which  poles  were  fixed  to  be  with- 
drawn at  pleasure.  The  house,  or  "  fort  '* —  as 
anything  in  the  shape  of  a  house  is  called  in  these 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  «75 

parts,  where,  indeed,  every  man  must  make  his 
house  a  castle  —  was  loopholed  on  all  sides,  and 
boasted  a  turf  chimney  of  rather  primitive  con- 
struction, but  which  answered  the  purpose  of 
drawing  the  smoke  from  the  interior.  Game  was 
plentiful  all  around ;  bands  of  buffalo  were  con- 
stantly passing  the  Arkansa ;  and  there  Avere  al- 
ways deer  and  antelope  within  sight  of  the  fort. 
The  pasture,  too,  was  good  and  abundant  —  being 
the  rich  grama  or  buffalo  grass,  which,  although 
rather  dry  at  this  season,  still  retains  its  fatten- 
ing qualities ;  and  the  animals  soon  began  to  im- 
prove wonderfully  in  condition  and  strength. 

Of  the  four  hundred  head  of  mules  and  horses 
with  which  they  had  started  from  California,  but 
one-half  reached  the  Arkansa.  Many  had  been 
killed  for  food  (indeed,  they  had  furnished  the  only 
provisions  during  the  journey),  many  had  been 
stolen  by  the  Indians,  or  shot  by  them  at  night ; 
and  many  had  strayed  off  and  not  been  recovered. 
We  have  omitted  to  mention  that  the  Sonora  girl 
Juanita,  and  her  spouse  Ned  Wooton,  remained 
behind  at  Roubideau's  fort  and  rendezvous  on  the 
Uintah,  which  our  band  had  passed  on  the  other 
side  of  the  mountains,  whence  they  proceeded  with 
a  party  to  Taos  in  New  Mexico,  and  resided  there 
for  some  years,  blessed  with  a  fine  family,  &c.,  &c., 
&c.,  as  the  novels  end. 

As  soon  as  the  animals  were  fat  and  strong, 
they  were  taken  down  the  Arkansa  to  Bent's  In- 


276  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

dian  trading-fort,  about  sixty  miles  below  the 
mouth  of  Fontaine-qui-bouille.  Here  a  ready  sale 
was  found  for  them,  mules  being  at  that  time  in 
great  demand  on  the  frontier  of  the  United  States, 
and  every  season  the  Bents  carried  across  the 
plains  to  Independence  a  considerable  number  col- 
lected in  the  Indian  country,  and  in  the  upper  set- 
tlements of  New  Mexico.  While  the  mountaineers 
were  descending  the  Arkansa  a  little  incident  oc- 
curred, and  some  of  the  party  very  unexpectedly 
encountered  an  old  friend.  Killbuck  and  La 
Bonte,  who  were  generally  companeros,  were  rid- 
ing some  distance  ahead  of  the  cavallada,  passing 
at  the  time  the  mouth  of  the  Huerfano  or  Orphan 
Creek,  when,  at  a  long  distance  before  them,  they 
saw  the  figure  of  a  horseman,  followed  by  two  loose 
animals,  descending  the  bluff  into  the  timbered 
bottom  of  the  river.  Judging  the  stranger  to  be 
Indian,  they  spurred  their  horses  and  galloped  in 
pursuit,  but  the  figure  ahead  suddenly  disap- 
peared. However,  they  quickly  followed  the 
track,  which  was  plain  enough  in  the  sandy  bot- 
tom, that  of  a  horse  and  two  mules.  Killbuck 
scrutinized  the  "  sign,"  and  puzzled  over  it  a  con- 
siderable time ;  and  at  last  exclaimed  — "  Wagh ! 
this  sign's  as  plain  as  mon  beaver  to  me;  look  at 
that  hoss-track,  boy;  did  ye  ever  see  that  afore.?  " 
**  Well,  I  have !  "  answered  La  Bonte,  peering 
down  at  it :  "  that  ar  shuffle-toe  seems  handy  to  me 
now,  I  tell  you." 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  277 

"  The  man  as  used  to  ride  that  hoss  is  long  gone 
under,  but  the  hoss,  darn  the  old  critter,  is  old 
Bill  Williams's,  I'll  swar  by  hook." 

"  Well,  it  ain't  nothin'  else,"  continued  La 
Bonte,  satisfying  himself  by  a  long  look ;  "  it's  the 
old  boy's  hoss  as  sure  as  shootin':  and  them 
Rapahos  has  rubbed  him  out  at  last,  and  raised 
his  animals.     Ho,  boy !  let's  lift  their  hair." 

"  Agreed,"  answered  Killbuck ;  and  away  they 
started  in  pursuit,  determined  to  avenge  the  death 
of  their  old  comrade. 

They  followed  the  track  through  the  bottom 
and  into  the  stream,  which  it  crossed,  and  passing 
a  few  yards  up  the  bank,  entered  the  water  again, 
when  they  could  see  nothing  more  of  it.  Puzzled 
at  this,  they  sought  on  each  side  the  river,  but 
in  vain ;  and,  not  wishing  to  lose  more  time  in  the 
search,  they  proceeded  through  the  timber  on  the 
banks  to  find  a  good  camping-place  for  the  night, 
which  had  been  their  object  in  riding  in  advance 
of  the  cavallada.  On  the  left  bank,  a  short  dis- 
tance before  them,  was  a  heavy  growth  of  timber, 
and  the  river  ran  in  one  place  close  to  a  high  bluff, 
between  which  and  the  water  was  an  almost  im- 
pervious thicket  of  plum  and  cherry  trees.  The 
grove  of  timber  ended  before  it  reached  this  point, 
and  but  few  scattered  trees  grew  in  the  little 
glade  which  intervened,  and  which  was  covered 
with  tolerable  grass.  This  being  fixed  upon  as  an 
excellent  camp,  the  two  mountaineers  rode  into  the 


a78  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

glade,  and  dismounted  close  to  the  plum  and  cherry 
thicket,  whicli  formed  almost  a  wall  before  them, 
and  an  excellent  shelter  from  the  wind.  Jumping 
off  their  horses,  they  were  in  the  act  of  removing 
the  saddles  from  their  backs,  when  a  shrill  neigh 
burst  from  the  thicket  not  two  yards  behind  them : 
a  rustling  in  the  bushes  followed,  and  presently  a 
man  dressed  in  buckskin  and  rifle  in  hand,  burst 
out  of  the  tangled  brush,  exclaiming  in  an  angry 
voice  — 

"  Do'ee  hyar  now?  I  was  nigh  upon  gut- 
shootin'  some  of  e'e  —  I  was  now ;  thought  e'e  was 
darned  Rapahos,  I  did,  and  cached  right  off." 

"  Ho,  Bill !  what,  old  hoss !  not  gone  under 
yet?  "  cried  both  the  hunters.  "  Give  us  your 
paw." 

"  Do  'ee  now,  if  hyar  am't  them  bo^^s  as  was 
rubbed  out  on  Lodge  Pole  (creek)  a  time  ago. 
Do'ee  hyar?  if  this  ain't  some  now,  I  wouldn't  say 
so." 

Leaving  old  Bill  Williams  and  our  two  friends 
to  exchange  their  rough  but  hearty  greetings,  we 
will  glance  at  that  old  worthy's  history  since  the 
time  when  we  left  him  caching  in  the  fire  and 
smoke  on  the  Indian  battle-ground  in  the  Rocky 
Mountains.  He  had  escaped  fire  and  smoke,  or  he 
would  not  have  been  here  on  Arkansa  with  his  old 
grizzled  Nez-perce  steed.  On  that  occasion  the 
veteran  mountaineer  had  lost  his  two  pack-animals 
and  all  his  beaver.     He  was  not  the  man,  however. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  279 

to  want  a  horse  or  mule  as  long  as  an  Indian  vil- 
lage was  near  at  hand.  Skulking,  therefore,  by 
day  in  caiion  and  deep  gorges  of  the  mountains, 
and  traveling  by  night,  he  followed  closely  on  the 
trail  of  the  victorious  savages,  bided  his  time, 
struck  his  "  coup,"  and  recovered  a  pair  of  pack- 
horses,  which  was  all  he  required.  Ever  since,  he 
had  been  trapping  alone  in  all  parts  of  the  moun- 
tains ;  had  visited  the  rendezvous  but  twice  for 
short  periods,  and  then  with  full  packs  of  beaver ; 
and  was  now  on  his  way  to  Bent's  Fort,  to  dispose 
of  his  present  loads  of  peltr}^,  enjoy  one  good 
carouse  on  Taos  whisky,  and  then  return  to  some 
hole  or  comer  in  the  mountains  which  he  knew  of, 
to  follow  in  the  spring  his  solitary  avocation.  He 
too  had  had  his  share  of  troubles,  and  had  many 
Indian  scrapes,  but  passed  safely  through  all,  and 
scarcely  cared  to  talk  of  what  he  had  done,  so  mat- 
ter-of-fact to  him  were  the  most  extraordinary  of 
his  perilous  adventures. 

Arrived  at  Bent's  Fort,  the  party  disposed  of 
their  cavallada,  and  then, —  respect  for  the  par- 
donable weaknesses  of  our  mountain  friends 
prompts  us  to  draw  a  veil  over  the  furious  orgies 
that  ensued.  A  number  of  hunters  and  trappers 
were  in  from  their  hunting-grounds,  and  a  village 
of  Shians  and  some  lodges  of  Kioways  were 
camped  round  the  fort.  As  long  as  the  liquor 
lasted  —  and  there  was  good  store  of  alcohol  as 
well  as  of  Taos  whisky  —  the  Arkansa  resounded 


280  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

with  furious  mirth,  not  unmixed  with  graver 
scenes ;  for  your  mountaineer,  ever  quarrelsome  in 
his  cups,  is  quick  to  give  and  take  offense  when 
rifles  alone  can  settle  the  difference,  and  much 
blood  is  spilt  upon  the  prairie  in  his  wild  and  fre- 
quent quarrels. 

Bent's  Fort  *  is  situated  on  the  left  or  northern 
bank  of  the  river  Arkansa,  about  one  hundred 
miles  from  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  —  on 
a  low  and  level  bluff  of  the  prairie  which  here 
slopes  gradually  to  the  water's  edge.  The  walls 
are  built  entirely  of  adobes  —  or  sun-burned 
bricks  —  in  the  form  of  a  hollow  square,  at  two 
comers  of  which  are  circular  flanking  towers  of 
the  same  material.  The  entrance  is  by  a  large 
gateway  into  the  square,  round  which  are  the 
rooms  occupied  by  the  traders  and  employes  of 
the  host.  These  are  small  in  size,  with  walls  col- 
ored by  a  whitewash  made  of  clay  found  in  the 
prairie.  Their  flat  roofs  are  defended  along  the 
exterior  by  parapets  of  adobe,  to  serve  as  a  cover 
to  marksmen  firing  from  the  top ;  and  along  the 
coping  grow  plants  of  cactus  of  all  the  varieties 
common  in  the  plains.  In  the  center  of  the  square 
is  the  press  for  packing  the  furs ;  and  there  are 
three  large  rooms,  one  used  as  a  store  and  maga- 
zine, another  as  a  council-room,  where  the  Indians 

*  Sometimes  called  Fort  William,  from  one  of  the  two 
Bent  brothers  who  founded  it  in  1829.  It  was  destroyed 
in  1852.     (Ed.) 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  281 

assemble  for  their  "  talks,"  whilst  the  third  is  the 
common  dining-hall,  where  the  traders,  trappers, 
and  hunters,  and  all  employes,  feast  upon  the  best 
provender  the  game-covered  country  affords. 
Over  the  culinary  department  presided  of  late 
years  a  fair  lady  of  color,  Charlotte  by  name,  who 
was,  as  she  loved  to  say,  "  de  onlee  lady  in  de  dam 
Injun  country,"  and  who,  moreover,  was  celebrated 
from  Long's  Peak  to  the  Cumbres  Espaiiolas  for 
slapjacks  and  pumpkin  pies. 

Here  congregate  at  certain  seasons  the  mer- 
chants of  the  plains  and  mountains,  with  their 
stocks  of  peltry.  Chiefs  of  the  Shian,  the  Kio- 
way,  and  Arapaho,  sit  in  solemn  conclave  with  the 
head  traders,  and  smoke  the  calumet  over  their 
real  and  imaginary  grievances.  Now  0-cun-no- 
whurst,  the  Yellow  Wolf,  grand  chief  of  the 
Shian,  complains  of  certain  grave  offenses  against 
the  dignity  of  his  nation !  A  trader  from  the 
"  big  lodge  "  (the  fort)  has  been  in  his  village,  and 
before  the  trade  was  opened,  in  laying  the  custom- 
ary' chief's  gift  "  on  the  prairie  "  has  not  "  opened 
his  hand,"  but  "  squeezed  out  his  present  between 
his  fingers,"  grudgingly  and  with  too  sparing 
measure.  Tliis  was  hard  to  bear,  but  the  Yellow 
Wolf  would  say  no  more ! 

Tah-kai-buhl,  or,  "  He  Who  Jumps,"  is  deputed 
from  the  Kiowa}'  to  warn  the  white  traders  not  to 
proceed  to  the  Canadian  to  trade  with  the  Com- 
anche.     That   nation   is   mad  —  a    "  heap    mad  '* 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 


with  the  whites,  and  has  "  dug  up  the  hatchet  "  to 
"  rub  out "  all  who  enter  its  country.  The  Kio- 
way  loves  the  pale-face,  and  gives  him  warning 
(and  "  He  Who  Jumps  "  looks  as  if  he  deserves 
something  "  on  the  prairie"  for  his  information). 

Shawh-noh-qua-mish,  "  The  Peeled  Lodge-pole," 
is  there  to  excuse  his  Arapaho  braves,  who  lately 
made  free  with  a  band  of  horses  belonging  to  the 
fort.  He  promises  the  like  shall  never  happen 
again,  and  he,  Shawh-noh-qua-mish,  speaks  with  a 
"  single  tongue."  Over  clouds  of  tobacco  and 
kinnik-kinnik  these  grave  affairs  are  settled  and 
terms  arranged. 

In  the  corral,  groups  of  leather-clad  mountain- 
eers, with  decks  of  euchre  and  seven  up,  gamble 
away  their  hard-earned  peltries.  The  employes 
—  mostly  St.  Louis  Frenchmen  and  Canadian  voy- 
ageurs  —  are  pressing  packs  of  buffalo-skins,  beat- 
ing robes,  or  engaged  in  other  duties  of  a  trading- 
fort.  Indian  squaws,  the  wives  of  mountaineers, 
strut  about  in  all  the  pride  of  beads  and  "  fofar- 
raw,"  jingling  with  bells  and  bugles,  and  happy  as 
paint  can  make  them.  Hunters  drop  in  with  ani- 
mals packed  with  deer  or  buffalo  meat  to  supply 
the  fort;  Indian  dogs  look  anxiously  in  at  the 
gateway,  fearing  to  enter  and  encounter  their 
natural  enemies,  the  whites ;  and  outside  the  fort, 
at  an}^  hour  of  the  day  or  night,  one  may  safely 
wager  to  see  a  dozen  cayeutes  or  prairie  wolves 
loping   round,   or   seated   on  their  haunches,   and 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  283 

looking  gravely  on,  waiting  patiently  for  some 
chance  ofFal  to  be  cast  outside.  Against  the  walls, 
groups  of  Indians  too  proud  to  enter  without  an 
invitation,  lean,  wrapped  in  their  buffalo-robes, 
sulky  and  evidently  ill  at  ease  to  be  so  near  the 
whites  without  a  chance  of  fingering  their  scalp- 
locks;  their  white  lodges  shining  in  the  sun,  at  a 
little  distance  from  the  riverbanks  —  their  horses 
feeding  in  the  plain  beyond. 

The  appearance  of  the  fort  is  very  striking, 
standing  as  it  does  hundreds  of  miles  from  any 
settlement,  on  the  vast  and  lifeless  prairie,  sur- 
rounded by  hordes  of  hostile  Indians,  and  far  out 
of  reach  of  intercourse  with  civilized  man ;  its 
mud-built  walls  inclosing  a  little  garrison  of  a 
dozen  hardy  men,  sufficient  to  hold  in  check  the 
numerous  tribes  of  savages  ever  thirsting  for  their 
blood.  Yet  the  solitary  stranger  passing  this  lone 
fort  feels  proudly  secure  when  he  comes  within 
sight  of  the  Stars  and  Stripes  which  float  above 
the  walls. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

GAIN  we  must  take  a  jump  with  La  Bonte 
over  a  space  of  several  months,  when  we 
find  him  in  company  of  half-a-dozen  trap- 
pers, amongst  them  his  inseparable  companero 
Killbuck,  camped  on  the  Greenhorn  Creek,  en 
route  to  the  settlements  of  New  Mexico.  They 
have  a  few  mules  packed  with  beaver  for  the  Taos 
market ;  but  this  expedition  has  been  planned  more 
for  pleasure  than  profit  —  a  journey  to  Taos 
valley  being  the  only  civilized  relaxation  coveted 
by  the  mountaineers.  Not  a  few  of  the  present 
band  are  bound  thither  with  matrimonial  in- 
tentions ;  the  belles  of  Nuevo  Mejico  being  to  them 
the  ne  plus  ultra,  of  female  perfection,  uniting  most 
conspicuous  personal  charms  (although  coated 
with  cosmetic  alegria  —  an  herb,  with  the  juice  of 
which  the  women  of  Mexico  hideously  bedaub  their 
faces)  with  all  the  hard-working  industry  of  In- 
dian squaws.  The  ladies,  on  their  part,  do  not 
hesitate  to  leave  the  paternal  abodes,  and  eternal 
tortilla-making,  to  share  the  perils  and  privations 
of  the  American  mountaineers  in  the  distant  wil- 
derness.     Utterly  despising  their  own  countrymen, 

whom  they  are  used  to  contrast  with  the  dashing 

2S4 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  285 

white  hunters  who  swagger  in  all  the  pride  of 
fringe  and  leather  through  their  towns,  they,  as 
is  but  natural,  gladly  accept  husbands  from  the 
latter  class :  preferring  the  stranger,  who  pos- 
sesses the  heart  and  strong  right  arm  to  defend 
them,  to  the  miserable  cowardly  "  pelados,"  who 
hold  what  little  they  have  on  sufferance  of  savage 
Indians,  but  one  degree  superior  to  themselves. 

Certainly  no  band  of  hunters  that  ever  appeared 
in  the  Vale  of  Taos  numbered  in  its  ranks  a  prop- 
erer  lot  of  lads  than  those  now  camped  on  Green- 
horn, intent  on  matrimonial  foray  into  the  settle- 
ments of  New  Mexico.  There  was  young  Dick 
Wooton,*  who  was  "  some  "  for  his  inches,  being 
six  feet  six,  and  as  straight  and  strong  as  the 
barrel  of  his  long  rifle.  Shoulder  to  shoulder  with 
this  "  boy  "  stood  Rube  Herring,  and  not  a  hair's- 
breadth  difference  in  height  or  size  was  there  be- 
tween them.  Killbuck,  though  mountain  winters 
had  sprinkled  a  few  snow-flakes  on  his  head,  looked 
up  to  neither ;  and  La  Bonte  held  his  own  with  any 
mountaineer  who  ever  set  a  trap  in  sight  of  Long's 
Peak  or  the  Snowy  Range.  Marcelline  —  who, 
though  a  Mexican,  despised  his  people  and  abjured 
his  blood,  having  been  all  his  life  in  the  mountains 
with  the  white  hunters  —  looked  down  easily  upon 
six  feet  and  odd  inches.  In  form  a  Hercules,  he 
had  the  symmetry  of  an  Apollo ;  with  strikingly 
handsome  features,  and  masses  of  long  black  hair 

*  Still  living  about  1898  in  Colorado.     (Ed.) 


286  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

hanging  from  his  slouching  beaver  over  the  shoul- 
ders of  his  buckskin  hunting-shirt.  He,  as  he  was 
wont  to  say,  was  "  no  dam  Spaniard,  but  moun- 
tainee  man,  wagh ! "  Chabonard,  a  half-breed, 
was  not  lost  in  the  crowd ;  —  and,  the  last  in 
height,  but  the  first  in  every  quality  which  consti- 
tutes excellence  in  a  mountaineer,  whether  of  in- 
domitable courage  or  perfect  indifference  to  death 
or  danger  —  with  an  iron  frame  capable  of  with- 
standing hunger,  thirst,  heat,  cold,  fatigue,  and 
hardships  of  every  kind  —  of  wonderful  presence 
of  mind  and  endless  resources  in  times  of  peril  — 
with  the  instinct  of  an  animal  and  the  moral  cour- 
age of  a  man, —  who  was  "  taller  "  for  his  inches 
than  Kit  Carson,  paragon  of  mountaineers?  * 
Small  in  stature,  and  slenderly  limbed,  but  with 
muscles  of  wire,  with  a  fair  complexion  and  quiet 
intelligent  features,  to  look  at  Kit  none  would  sup- 
pose that  the  mild-looking  being  before  him  was  an 
incarnate  devil  in  Indian  fight,  and  had  raised 
more  hair  from  head  of  Redskins  than  any  two 
men  in  the  western  country ;  and  yet,  thirty  win- 
ters had  scarcely  planted  a  line  or  furrow  on  his 

*  Since  the  time  of  which  we  speak,  Kit  Carson  has  dis- 
tinguished himself  in  guiding  the  several  U.  S.  exploring  ex- 
peditions under  Fremont  across  the  Rocky  Mountains,  and 
to  all  parts  of  Oregon  and  California;  and  for  his  services, 
the  President  of  the  United  States  presented  the  gallant 
mountaineer  with  the  commission  of  lieutenant  in  a  newly- 
raised  regiment  of  mounted  riflemen,  of  which  his  old  leader 
Fremont  is  appointed  colonel.     (Author's  note.) 


IN   THE   OLD  WEST  28T 

clean-shaven  face.  No  name,  however,  was  better 
known  in  the  mountains — from  Yellow  Stone  to 
Spanish  Peaks,  from  Missouri  to  Columbia  River 
— than  that  of  Kit  Carson,  raised  in  Boonlick, 
Missouri  State,  and  a  credit  to  the  "diggins"  that 
gave  him  birth. 

On  Huerfano  or  Orphan  Creek,  so  called  from 
an  isolated  biitte  which  stands  on  a  prairie  near 
the  stream,  our  party  fell  in  with  a  village  of  Yuta 
Indians,  at  that  time  hostile  to  the  whites.  Both 
parties  were  preparing  for  battle,  when  Killbuck, 
who  spoke  the  language,  went  forward  with  signs 
of  peace,  and  after  a  talk  with  several  chiefs,  en- 
tered into  an  armistice,  each  party  agreeing  not  to 
molest  the  other.  After  trading  for  a  fcAV  deer- 
skins, which  the  Yutas  are  celebrated  for  dressing 
delicately  fine,  the  trappers  moved  hastily  on  out 
of-  such  dangerous  company,  and  camped  under  the 
mountain  on  Oak  Creek,  where  they  forted  in  a 
strong  position,  and  constructed  a  corral  in  which 
to  secure  their  animals  at  night.  At  this  point  is 
a  tolerable  pass  through  the  mountains,  where  a 
break  occurs  in  a  range,  whence  they  gradually  de- 
crease in  magnitude  until  they  meet  the  sierras  of 
INIexico,  which  connect  the  two  mighty  chains  of 
the  Andes  and  the  Rocky  Mountains.  From  the 
summit  of  the  dividing  ridge,  to  the  eastward,  a 
view  is  had  of  the  vast  sea  of  prairie  which 
stretches  away  from  the  base  of  the  mountains,  in 
dreary  barrenness,  for  nearly  a  thousand  miles,  un- 


288  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

til  it  meets  the  fertile  valley  of  the  great  Missouri. 
Over  this  boundless  expanse  nothing  breaks  the 
uninterrupted  solitude  of  the  view.  Not  a  tree  or 
atom  of  foliage  relieves  the  eye;  for  the  lines  of 
scattered  timber  which  belt  the  streams  running 
from  the  mountains  are  lost  in  the  shadow  of  their 
stupendous  height,  and  beyond  this  nothing  is 
seen  but  the  bare  surface  of  the  rolling  prairie. 
In  no  other  part  of  the  chain  are  the  grand  char- 
acteristics of  the  Far  West  more  strikingly  dis- 
plaj'^ed  than  from  this  pass.  The  mountains  here 
rise  on  the  eastern  side  abruptly  from  the  plain, 
and  the  view  over  the  great  prairies  is  not  there- 
fore obstructed  by  intervening  ridges.  To  the 
westward  the  eye  sweeps  over  the  broken  spurs 
which  stretch  from  the  main  range  in  every  direc- 
tion ;  whilst  distant  peaks,  for  the  most  part  snow- 
covered,  are  seen  at  intervals  rising  isolated  above 
the  range.  On  all  sides  the  scene  is  wild  and  dis- 
mal. 

Crossing  by  this  path,  the  trappers  followed  the 
Yuta  trail  over  a  plain,  skirting  a  pine-covered 
ridge,  in  which  countless  herds  of  antelope,  tame 
as  sheep,  were  pasturing.  Numerous  creeks  inter- 
sect it,  well  timbered  with  oak,  pine,  and  cedar, 
and  well  stocked  with  game  of  all  kinds.  On  the 
eleventh  day  from  leaving  the  Huerfano,  they 
struck  the  Taos  valley  settlement  on  Arroyo 
Hondo,  and  pushed  on  at  once  to  the  village  of 
Fernandez  —  sometimes,    but    improperly,    called 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  289 

Taos.  As  the  dashing  band  clattered  through  the 
village,  the  dark  eyes  of  the  reboso-wrapped 
muchachas  peered  from  the  doors  of  the  adobe 
houses,  each  mouth  armed  with  cigarito,  which  was 
at  intervals  removed  to  allow  utterance  to  the  salu- 
tation to  each  hunter  as  he  trotted  past  of  Adios 
Americanos, — "  Welcome  to  Fernandez !  "  and  then 
they  hurried  off  to  prepare  for  the  fandango, 
which  invariably  followed  the  advent  of  the  moun- 
taineers. The  men,  however,  seemed  scarcely  so 
well  pleased ;  but  leaned  sulkily  against  the  walls, 
their  sarapes  turned  over  their  left  shoulder,  and 
concealing  tlie  lower  part  of  the  face,  the  hand 
appearing  from  its  upper  folds  only  to  remove 
the  eternal  cigarro  from  their  lips.  They,  from 
under  their  broad-brimmed  sombreros,  scowled 
with  little  affection  on  the  stalwart  hunters,  who 
clattered  past  them,  scarcely  deigning  to  glance  at 
the  sullen  Pelados,  but  paying  incomprehensible 
compliments  to  the  buxom  wenches  who  smiled  at 
them  from  the  doors.  Thus  exchanging  saluta- 
tions, they  rode  up  to  the  house  of  an  old  moun- 
taineer, who  had  long  been  settled  here  with  a  New 
Mexican  wife,  and  who  was  the  recognized  enter- 
tainer of  the  hunters  when  they  visited  Taos 
Talley,  receiving  in  exchange  such  peltry  as  they 
brought  with  them. 

No  sooner  was  it  known  that  Los  Americanos 
had  arrived  than  nearly  all  the  householders  of 
Fernandez  presented  themselves  to  offer  the  use  of 


290  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

their  salas  for  the  fandango  which  invariably  cele- 
brated their  arrival.  This  was  always  a  profit- 
able event ;  for  as  the  mountaineers  were  generally 
pretty  well  flush  of  cash  when  on  their  spree,  and 
as  open-handed  as  an  Indian  could  wish,  the  sale 
of  whisky,  with  which  they  regaled  all  comers, 
produced  a  handsome  return  to  the  fortunate  in- 
dividual whose  room  was  selected  for  the  fandango. 
On  this  occasion  the  sala  of  the  Alcalde  Don  Cor- 
nelio  Vegil  was  selected  and  put  in  order ;  a  gen- 
eral invitation  was  distributed;  and  all  the  dusky 
beauties  of  Fernandez  were  soon  engaged  in  ar- 
raying themselves  for  the  fete.  Off  came  the  coats 
of  dirt  and  alegria  which  had  bedaubed  their  faces 
since  the  last  "  function,"  leaving  their  cheeks 
clear  and  clean.  Water  was  profusely  used,  and 
their  cuerpos  were  doubtless  astonished  by  the 
unusual  lavation.  Their  long  black  hair  was 
washed  and  combed,  plastered  behind  their  ears, 
and  plaited  into  a  long  queue,  which  hung  down 
their  backs.  Enaguas  of  gaudy  color  (red  most 
affected)  were  donned,  fastened  round  the  waist 
with  ornamented  belts,  and  above  this  a  snow-white 
camisita  of  fine  linen  was  the  only  covering,  allow- 
ing a  prodigal  display  of  their  charms.  Gold 
and  silver  ornaments,  of  antiquated  pattern,  deco- 
rate their  ears  and  necks ;  and  massive  crosses  of 
the  precious  metals,  wrought  from  the  gold  or  sil- 
ver of  their  own  placeres,  hang  pendent  on  their 
breasts.     The  enagua  or  petticoat,  reaching  about 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  291 

half-way  between  the  knee  and  ankle,  displays 
thcii'  well-turned  limbs,  destitute  of  stockings,  and 
their  tiny  feet,  thrust  into  quaint  little  shoes 
{zapatitos)  of  Cinderellan  dimensions.  Thus 
equipped,  with  the  reboso  drawn  over  their  heads 
and  faces,  out  of  the  folds  of  which  their  brilliant 
eyes  flash  like  lightning,  and  each  pretty  moutli 
armed  with  its  cigarito,  they  coquettishly  enter  the 
fandango.*  Here,  at  one  end  of  a  long  room,  are 
seated  the  musicians,  their  instruments  being  gen- 
erally a  species  of  guitar  called  Jieaca,  a  bandolin, 
and  an  Indian  drum  called  tombe  —  one  of  each. 
Round  the  room  groups  of  New  Mexicans  lounge, 
wrapped  in  the  eternal  sarape,  and  smoking  of 
course,  scowling  with  jealous  eyes  at  the  more  fa- 
vored mountaineers.  These,  divested  of  their 
hunting-coats  of  buckskins,  appear  in  their  bran- 
new  shirts  of  gaudy  calico,  and  close-fitting  buck- 
skin pantaloons,  with  long  fringes  down  the  out- 
side seam  from  the  hip  to  the  ankle ;  with  mocca- 
sins, ornamented  with  bright  beads  and  porcupine- 
quills.  Each,  round  his  waist,  wears  his  mountain- 
belt  and  scalp-knife,  ominous  of  the  company  he  is 
in,  and  some  have  pistols  sticking  in  their  belts. 

The  dances  —  save  the  mark  !  —  are  without 
form  or  figure,  at  least  those  in  which  the  white 
hunters  sport  the  fantastic  toe.      Seizing  his  part- 

*  The  word  fand<ingo,  in  New  Mexico,  is  not  applied  to 
the  peculiar  dance  known  in  Spain  by  that  name,  but  desig- 
nates a  ball  or  dancing  meeting. 


29£  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ner  round  the  waist  with  the  grip  of  a  grisly  bear, 
each  mountaineer  whirls  and  twirls,  jumps  and 
stamps ;  introduces  Indian  steps  used  in  the 
"  scalp  "  or  "  buffalo  "  dances,  whooping  occasion- 
ally with  unearthly  cry,  and  then  subsiding  into 
the  jerking  step,  raising  each  foot  alternately 
from  the  ground,  so  much  in  vogue  in  Indian  bal- 
lets. The  hunters  have  the  floor  all  to  themselves. 
The  Mexicans  have  no  chance  in  such  physical 
force  dancing;  and  if  a  dancing  Pelado  *  steps 
into  the  ring,  a  lead-like  thump  from  a  gallop- 
ing mountaineer  quickly  sends  him  sprawling,  with 
the  considerate  remark  — "  Quit,  you  darned 
Spaniard !  you  can't  shine  in  this  crowd." 

During  a  lull,  guages  f  filled  with  whisky  go  the 
rounds  —  offered  to  and  seldom  refused  by  ihe 
ladies,  sturdily  quaffed  by  the  mountaineers,  and 
freely  swallowed  by  the  Pelados,  who  drown  their 
jealousy  and  envious  hate  of  their  entertainers  in 
potent  aguardiente.  Now,  as  the  guages  are  oft 
refilled  and  as  often  drained,  and  as  night  ad- 
vances, so  do  the  spirits  of  the  mountaineers  be- 
come more  boisterous,  while  their  attentions  to 
their  partners  become  warmer  —  the  jealousy  of 
the  natives  waxes  hotter  thereat,  and  they  begin  to 
show  symptoms  of  resenting  the  endearments  whicK. 
the   mountaineers    bestow   upon    their   wives    and 

*  A  nickname  for  the  idle  fellows  hanging  about  a  Mexi- 
can town,  translated  into  "Grreaseis"  by  the  Americana, 
t  Cask-shaped  gourds. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

sweethearts.  And  now,  when  the  room  is  filled  to 
crowding, —  with  two  hundred  people  swearing, 
drinking,  dancing,  and  shouting  —  the  half-dozen 
Americans  monopolizing  the  fair,  to  the  evident 
disadvantage  of  at  least  threescore  scowling  Pela- 
dos,  it  happens  that  one  of  these,  maddened  by 
whisky  and  the  green-eyed  monster,  suddenly  seizes 
a  fair  one  from  the  waist-encircling  arm  of  a  moun- 
taineer, and  pulls  her  from  her  partner.  Wagh! 
—  La  Bonte  —  it  is  he  —  stands  erect  as  a  pillar 
for  a  moment,  then  raises  his  hand  to  his  mouth 
and  gives  a  ringing  war-whoop  —  jumps  upon  the 
rash  Pelado,  seizes  him  by  the  body  as  if  he  were  a 
child,  lifts  him  over  his  head,  and  dashes  him  with 
the  force  of  a  giant  against  the  wall. 

The  war,  long  threatened,  has  commenced; 
twenty  Mexicans  draw  their  knives  and  rush  upon 
La  Bonte,  who  stands  his  ground,  and  sweeps  them 
down  with  his  ponderous  fist,  one  after  another,  as 
they  throng  around  him.  "  Howgh-owgh-owgh- 
owgh-h ! "  the  well-known  war-whoop,  bursts  from 
the  throats  of  his  companions,  and  on  they  rush 
to  the  rescue.  The  women  scream,  and  block  the 
door  in  their  eagerness  to  escape;  and  thus  the 
Mexicans  are  compelled  to  stand  their  ground 
and  fight.  Knives  glitter  in  the  light,  and  quick 
thrusts  are  given  and  parried.  In  the  center  of 
the  room  the  whites  stand  shoulder  to  shoulder, 
covering  the  floor  with  Mexicans  by  their  stalwart 
blows ;  but  the  odds  are  fearful  against  them,  and 


294  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

other  assailants  crowd  up  to  supply  the  place  of 
those  who  fall. 

The  alarm  being  given  by  the  shrieking  women, 
reinforcements  of  Pelados  rushed  to  the  scene  of 
action,  but  could  not  enter  the  room,  which  was  al- 
ready full.  The  odds  began  to  tell  against  the 
mountaineers,  when  Kit  Carson's  quick  eye  caught 
sight  of  a  high  stool  or  stone,  supported  by  three 
long  heavy  legs.  In  a  moment  he  had  cleared  his 
way  to  this,  and  in  another  the  three  legs  were 
broken  off  and  in  the  hands  of  himself,  Dick 
Wooton,  and  La  Bonte.  Sweeping  them  round 
their  heads,  down  came  the  heavy  weapons  amongst 
the  Mexicans  with  wonderful  effect.  At  this  the 
mountaineers  gave  a  hearty  whoop,  and  charged 
the  wavering  enemy  with  such  resistless  vigor,  that 
they  gave  way  and  bolted  through  the  door,  leav- 
ing the  floor  strewed  with  wounded,  many  most 
dangerously ;  for,  as  may  be  imagined,  a  thrust 
from  the  keen  scalp-knife  by  the  nervous  arm  of  a 
mountaineer  was  no  baby  blow,  and  seldom  failed 
to  strike  home  —  up  to  the  "  Green  River  "  *  on 
the  blade. 

The  field  being  won,  the  whites,  too,  beat  a  quick 
retreat  to  the  house  where  they  were  domiciled,  and 
where  they  had  left  their  rifles.     Without  their 

*  The  knives  used  hy  the  hunters  and  trappers  are  manu- 
factured at  the  "  Green  River  "  works,  and  have  tliat  name 
stamped  upon  the  blade.  Hence  the  mountain  term  for 
doing  anything  effectual  is  "  up  to  Green  River." 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  295 

trusty  weapons  they  felt,  indeed,  unarmed ;  and 
not  knowing  how  the  affair  just  over  would  be  fol- 
lowed up,  lost  no  time  in  making  preparations  for 
defense.  However,  after  great  blustering  on  the 
part  of  the  prefecto,  who,  accompanied  by  a 
-posse  cojnitatus  of  "  Greasers,"  proceeded  to  the 
house,  and  demanded  the  surrender  of  all  concerned 
in  the  affair  —  which  proposition  was  received  with 
a  yell  of  derision  —  the  business  was  compounded 
by  the  mountaineers  promising  to  give  sundry  dol- 
lars to  the  fiiends  of  two  of  the  Mexicans  who  died 
during  the  night  of  their  wounds,  and  to  pay  for  a 
certain  amount  of  masses  to  be  sung  for  the  repose 
of  their  souls  in  purgatory.  Thus  the  affair  blew 
over;  but  for  several  days  the  mountaineers  never 
showed  themselves  in  the  streets  of  Fernandez  with- 
out their  rifles  on  their  shoulders,  and  refrained 
from  attending  fandangos  for  the  present,  and  un- 
til the  excitement  had  cooled  down. 

A  bitter  feeling,  however,  existed  on  the  part  of 
the  men ;  and  one  or  two  offers  of  a  matrimonial 
nature  were  rejected  by  the  papas  of  certain  ladies 
who  had  been  wooed  by  some  of  the  white  hunters, 
and  their  hands  formally  demanded  from  their  re- 
spective padres. 

La  Bonte  had  been  rather  smitten  with  the 
channs  of  one  Dolores  Salazar  —  a  buxom  lass, 
more  than  three  parts  Indian  in  her  blood,  but  con- 
fessedly the  beauty  of  the  Vale  of  Taos.     She,  by 


296  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

dint  of  eye,  and  of  nameless  acts  of  elaborate  co- 
quetry, with  which  the  sex  so  universally  bait  their 
traps,  whether  in  the  salons  of  Belgravia  or  the 
rancherias  of  New  Mexico,  contrived  to  make  con- 
siderable havoc  in  the  heart  of  our  mountaineer; 
and  when  once  Dolores  saw  she  had  made  an  im- 
pression, she  followed  up  her  advantage  with  all 
the  arts  the  most  civilized  of  her  sex  could  use  when 
fishing  for  a  husband. 

La  Bonte,  however,  was  too  old  a  hunter  to  be 
easily  caught;  and  before  committing  himself,  he 
sought  the  advice  of  his  tried  companion,  Killbuck. 
Taking  him  to  a  retired  spot  without  the  village, 
he  drew  out  his  pipe  and  charged  it  —  seated  him- 
self cross-legged  on  the  ground,  and  with  Indian 
gravity,  composed  himself  for  a  "  talk." 

"  Ho,  Killbuck !  "  he  began,  touching  the  ground 
with  the  bowl  of  his  pipe,  and  then  turning  the 
stem  upwards  for  medicine  — "  Hyar's  a  child  feels 
squamptious-like,  and,  nigh  upon  gone  beaver,  he 
is  —  Wagh  !  " 

"  Wagh !  "  exclaimed  Killbuck,  all  attention. 

"  Old  boss,"  continued  the  other,  "  thar's  no  use 
caching  anyhow  what  a  nigger  feels  —  so  hyar's 
to  put  out.  You're  good  for  beaver  I  know;  at 
deer  or  buffler,  or  darned  Red  Injun  either,  you're 
some.  Now  that's  a  fact.  OfF-hand,  or  with  a 
rest,  you  make  'em  come.  You  knows  the  sign  of 
Injuns  slick  —  Blackfoot  or  Sioux,  Pawnee  or 
Bumtwood,  Teton,  Rapaho,  Shian,  or  Shoshon^e, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  297 

Yutah,  Piyutah,  or  Yamhareek  —  their  trail's  as 
plain  as  writin',  old  hoss,  to  you." 

"  Wagh !  "  grunted  Killbuck,  blushing  bronze  at 
all  these  compliments. 

"  Your  sight  ain't  bad.  Elks  is  elk  ;  black-tailed 
deer  ain't  white-tails ;  and  b'ar  is  b'ar  to  you,  and 
nothin'  else,  a  long  mile  off  and  more." 

«  Wa-agh !  " 

*'  Thar  ain't  a  track  as  leaves  its  mark  upon  the 
plains  or  mountains  but  you  can  read  off-hand; 
that  I've  see'd  myself.  But  tell  me,  old  hoss,  can 
you  make  understand  the  sign  as  shows  itself  in  a 
woman's  breast?  " 

Killbuck  removed  the  pipe  from  his  mouth,  raised 
his  head,  and  puffed  a  rolling  cloud  of  smoke  into 
the  air, —  knocked  the  ashes  from  the  bowl,  like- 
wise made  his  medicine  —  and  answered  thus :  — 

"  From  Red  River,  away  up  north  among  the 
Britishers,  to  Heely  (Gila)  in  the  Spanish  country 
—  from  old  Missoura  to  the  Sea  of  Californy,  I've 
trapped  and  hunted.  I  knows  the  Injuns  and 
thar  sign,  and  they  knows  me,  I'm  thinkin'.  Thirty 
winters  has  snowed  on  me  in  these  hyar  mountains, 
and  a  nigger  or  a  Spaniard  *  would  lam  some  in 
that  time.  This  old  tool "  (tapping  his  rifle) 
"  shoots  center,  she  does ;  and  if  thar's  game  afoot, 
this  child  knows  bull  from  cow,  and  ought  to  could. 
That  deer  is  deer,  and  goats  is  goats,  is  plain  as 

•  Always  alluding  to  Mexicans,  who  are  invariably  called 
Spaniards  by  the  Western  Americans. 


298  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

paint  to  any  but  a  greenhorn.  Beaver's  a  cunning 
critter,  but  I've  trapped  a  heap ;  and  at  killing 
meat  when  meat's  a-running,  I'll  shine  in  the  big- 
gest kind  of  crowd.  For  twenty  year  I  packed  a 
squaw  along.  Not  one,  but  a  many.  First  I  had 
a  Blackfoot  —  the  darndest  slut  as  ever  cried  for 
fofarraw.  I  lodge-poled  her  on  Colter's  Creek, 
and  made  her  quit.  IM}^  buffler  boss,  and  as  good 
as  four  packs  of  beaver,  I  ga,ve  for  old  Bull-tail's 
daughter.  He  was  head  chief  of  the  Ricaree,  and 
came  nicely  round  me.  Thar  wasn't  enough  scar- 
let cloth,  nor  beads,  nor  vermilion  in  Sublette's 
packs  for  her.  Traps  wouldn't  buy  her  all  the  fo- 
farraw she  wanted;  and  in  two  years  I'd  sold  her 
to  Cross-Eagle  for  one  of  Jake  Hawken's  gims  — 
this  very  one  I  hold  in  my  hands.  Then  I  tried 
the  Sioux,  the  Shian,  and  a  Digger  from  the  other 
side,  who  made  the  best  moccasin  as  ever  /  wore. 
She  was  the  best  of  all,  and  was  rubbed  out  by  the 
Yutas  in  the  Bayou  Salade.  Bad  was  the  best ; 
and  after  she  was  gone  under  I  tried  no  more. 

"  Afore  I  left  the  settlements  I  know'd  a  white 
gal,  and  she  was  some  punkins.  I  have  never  see'd 
i(iothing  as  'ould  beat  her.  Red  blood  won't  shine 
^an}'^  ways  you  fix  it ;  and  though  I'm  h —  for  sign, 
,a  woman's  breast  is  the  hardest  kind  of  rock  to 
tne,  and  leaves  no  trail  that  I  can  see  of.  I've 
hearn  you  talk  of  a  gal  in  ]\Iemphis  County ; 
Mary  Brand  you  called  her  oncest.  The  gal  I 
said  /  know'd,  her  name  I  disremember,  but  she 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  299 

stands  before  me  as  plain  as  Chimley  Rock  on 
Platte,  and  thirty  year  and  more  liarn't  changed  a 
feature  in  her  face,  to  me. 

"  If  3'Ou  ask  this  child,  he'll  tell  you  to  leave 
the  Spanish  slut  to  her  Greasers,  and  hold  on  till 
you  take  the  trail  to  old  Missoura,  whar  white  and 
Christian  gals  are  to  be  had  for  axing.     Wagh !  " 

La  Bonte  rose  to  his  feet.  The  mention  of 
Mary  Brand's  name  decided  him ;  and  he  said  — • 

"  Darn  the  Spaniard !  she  can't  shine  with  me. 
Come,  old  hoss !  let's  move." 

And  shouldering  their  rifles,  the  two  compaiicros 
returned  to  the  Ranch.  More  than  one  of  the 
mountaineers  had  fulfilled  the  object  of  their  jour- 
ney, and  had  taken  to  themselves  a  partner  from 
amongst  the  belles  of  Taos,  and  now  they  were  pre- 
paring for  their  return  to  the  mountains.  Dick 
Wooton  was  the  only  unfortunate  one.  He  had 
wooed  a  damsel  whose  parents  peremptorily  for- 
bade their  daughter  to  wed  the  hunter,  and  he 
therefore  made  ready  for  his  departure  with  con- 
siderable regret. 

The  day  came,  however.  The  band  of  moun- 
taineers were  already  mounted,  and  those  with 
wives  in  charge  were  some  hours  on  the  road,  leav- 
ing the  remainder  quaffing  many  a  stirrup-cup  be-, 
fore  they  left.  Dick  Wooton  was  as  melancholy 
as  a  buffalo  bull  in  spring;  and  as  he  rode  down 
the  village,  and  approached  the  house  of  his  lady- 
love, who  stood  wrapped  in  reboso,  and  cigarito  in 


300  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

mouth,  on  the  sill  of  the  door,  he  turned  awaj  his 
head  as  if  dreading  to  say  adios.  La  Bonte  rode 
beside  him,  and  a  thought  struck  him. 

"Ho,  Dick!"  he  said,  "  thar's  the  gal,  and 
thar's  the  mountains :  shoot  sharp's  the  word." 

Dick  instantly  understood  him,  and  was  "  him- 
self again."  He  rode  up  to  the  girl  as  if  to  bid 
her  adieu,  and  she  came  to  meet  him.  Whispering 
one  woi'd,  she  put  her  foot  upon  his,  was  instantly 
seized  round  the  waist,  and  placed  upon  the  horn 
of  his  saddle.  He  struck  spurs  into  his  horse,  and 
in  a  minute  was  out  of  sight ;  his  three  companions 
covering  his  retreat,  and  menacing  with  their 
rifles  the  crowd  which  was  soon  drawn  to  the  spot 
by  the  cries  of  tlie  girl's  parents,  who  had  been 
astonished  spectators  of  the  daring  rape. 

The  trapper  and  his  bride,  however,  escaped 
scatheless,  and  the  whole  party  effected  a  safe 
passage  of  the  mountains,  and  reached  the  Ark- 
ansa,  where  the  band  was  broken  up, —  some  pro- 
ceeding to  Bent's  Fort,  and  others  to  the  Platte, 
amongst  whom  were  Killbuck  and  La  Bonte,  still 
in  company. 

These  two  once  more  betook  themselves  to  trap- 
ping, the  Yellow  Stone  being  their  chief  hunting- 
ground.  But  we  must  again  leap  over  months  and 
years,  rather  than  conduct  the  reader  through  all 
their  perilous  wanderings,  and  at  last  bring  him 
back  to  the  camp  on  Bijou,  where  we  first  intro- 
duced him  to  our  mountaineers ;  and  as  we  have  al- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  301 

ready  followed  them  on  the  Arapaho  trail,  which 
they  pursued  to  recover  their  stolen  animals  from 
a  band  of  that  nation,  we  will  once  again  seat  our- 
selves at  the  camp  on  Boiling  Spring,  where  they 
had  met  a  strange  hunter  on  a  solitary  expedition 
to  the  Bayou  Salade,  whose  double-barreled  rifle 
had  excited  their  wonder  and  curiosity. 

From  him  they  learned  also  that  a  large  band 
of  Mormons  were  wintering  on  the  Arkansa,  en 
route  to  the  Great  Salt  Lake  and  Upper  Califor- 
nia; and  as  our  hunters  had  before  fallen  in  with 
the  advanced-guard  of  these  fanatic  emigrants,  and 
felt  no  little  wonder  that  such  helpless  people 
should  undertake  so  long  a  journey  through  the 
wilderness,  the  stranger  narrated  to  them  the  his- 
tory of  the  sect,  which  we  shall  shortly  transcribe 
for  the  benefit  of  the  reader. 


CHAPTER  IX 


T3HE  Mormons  were  originally  of  the  sect 
known  as  Latter-day  Saints,  which  flour- 
ishes wherever  Anglo-Saxon  gulls  are  found 
in  sufficient  numbers  to  swallow  the  egregious 
nonsense  of  fanatic  humbugs  who  fatten  upon  their 
credulit3\  In  the  United  States  they  especially 
abounded ;  but  the  creed  becoming  "  slow,"  one 
Joe  Smith,  a  smart  man,  rose  from  its  ranks  and 
instilled  a  little  life  into  the  decaying  sect. 

Joe,  better  known  as  the  "  Prophet  Joe,"  was 
taking  his  siesta  one  fine  day  upon  a  hill  in  New 
York  State,  when  an  angel  suddenly  appeared  to 
him,  and  made  known  the  locality  of  a  new  Bible 
or  Testament,  which  contained  the  history  of  the 
lost  tribes  of  Israel ;  that  these  tribes  were  no 
other  than  the  Indian  nations  which  possessed  the 
continent  of  America  at  the  time  of  its  discovery, 
and  the  remains  of  which  still  existed  in  their  sav- 
age state ;  that  through  the  agency  of  Joe  these 
were  to  be  reclaimed,  collected  into  the  bosom  of  a 
church  to  be  there  established,  according  to  prin- 
ciples which  would  be  found  in  the  wonderful  book 
—  and  which  church  was  gradually  to  receive  into 

its  bosom  all  other  churches,  sects,  and  persuasions, 

302 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  30S 

with  "  unanimity  of  belief  and  perfect  brother- 
hood." 

After  a  certain  probation,  Joe  was  led  in  body 
and  spirit  to  the  mountain  by  the  angel  who  first 
appeared  to  him ;  was  pointed  out  the  position  of 
the  wonderful  book,  which  was  covered  by  a  flat 
stone,  on  which  would  be  found  a  pair  of  magic 
spectacles,  called  Urim  and  Thummim,  and 
through  the  agency  of  which  the  mystic  charac- 
ters inscribed  on  the  pages  of  the  book  were  to  be 
deciphered  and  translated.  Joe  found  the  spot  in- 
dicated without  any  difficulty,  cleared  away  the 
earth,  and  discovered  a  hollow  place  formed  by 
four  flat  stones,  on  removing  the  topmost  one  of 
which  sundry  plates  of  brass  presented  themselves, 
covered  with  quaint  and  antique  carving;  on  the 
top  lay  Urim  and  Thummim  (commonly  known  to 
the  Mormons  as  Mummum  and  Thummum,  the 
spectacles  of  wonderful  virtue),  through  which  the 
miracle  of  reading  the  plates  of  brass  was  to  be 
performed. 

Joe  Sinith,  on  whom  the  mantle  of  Moses  had  so 
suddenly  fallen,  carefully  removed  the  plates  and 
hid  them,  burying  himself  in  woods  and  mountains 
whilst  engaged  in  the  work  of  translation.  How- 
ever, he  made  no  secret  of  the  important  task  im- 
posed upon  him,  nor  of  the  great  work  to  which  he 
had  been  called.  Numbers  at  once  believed  him, 
but  not  a  few  were  deaf  to  belief,  and  openly  de- 
rided him.     Being  persecuted  (as  the  sect  declares, 


304  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

at  the  instigation  of  the  authorities),  and  many 
attempts  being  made  to  steal  his  precious  treasure, 
Joe  one  fine  night  packed  his  plates  in  a  sack  of 
beans,  bundled  them  into  a  Jersey  wagon,  and 
made  tracks  for  the  West.  Here  he  completed  the 
great  work  of  translation,  and  not  long  after  gave 
to  the  world  the  "  Book  of  Mormon,"  a  work  as 
bulky  as  the  Bible,  and  called  "  of  Mormon,"  for 
so  was  the  prophet  named  by  whose  hand  the  his- 
tory of  the  lost  tribes  had  been  handed  down  in 
the  plates  of  brass  thus  miraculously  preserved  for 
thousands  of  years,  and  brought  to  light  through 
the  agency  of  Joseph  Smith. 

The  fame  of  the  Book  of  Mormon  spread  over  all 
America,  and  even  to  Great  Britain  and  Ireland. 
Hundreds  of  proselytes  flocked  to  Joe,  to  hear  from 
his  lips  the  doctrine  of  Mormonism ;  and  in  a  very 
brief  period  the  Mormons  became  a  numerous  and 
recognized  sect,  and  Joe  was  at  once,  and  by  uni- 
versal acclamation,  installed  as  the  head  of  the 
Mormon  Church,  and  was  ever  after  known  by  the 
name  of  the  "  Prophet  Joseph." 

However,  from  certain  peculiarities  in  their  so- 
cial system,  the  Mormons  became  rather  unpopular 
in  the  settled  States,  and  at  length  moved  bodily 
into  Missouri,  where  they  purchased  several  tracts 
of  land  in  the  neighborhood  of  Independence. 
Here  they  erected  a  large  building,  which  they 
called  the  Lord's  Store,  where  goods  were  collected 
on  the  common  account,  and  retailed  to  members 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  305 

of  the  Church  at  moderate  prices.  All  this  time 
their  numbers  increased  in  a  wonderful  manner, 
and  immigrants  from  all  parts  of  the  States,  as 
well  as  Europe,  continually  joined  them.  As  they 
became  stronger,  tliey  grew  bolder  and  more  arro- 
gant in  their  projects.  They  had  hitherto  been 
considered  as  bad  neighbors,  on  account  of  their 
pilfering  propensities,  and  their  utter  disregard  of 
the  conventional  decencies  of  society  —  exhibiting 
the  greatest  immorality,  and  endeavoring  to  estab- 
lish amongst  their  society  an  indiscriminate  con- 
cubinage. This  was  sufficient  to  produce  an  ill 
feeling  against  them  on  the  part  of  their  neighbors, 
the  honest  Missourians ;  but  they  still  tolerated 
their  presence  amongst  them,  until  the  Saints 
openly  proclaimed  their  intention  of  seizing  upon 
the  country,  and  expelling  by  force  the  present  oc- 
cupants —  giving,  as  their  reason,  that  it  had 
been  revealed  to  their  prophets  that  the  "  Land  of 
Zion "  was  to  be  possessed  by  themselves  alone. 
The  sturdy  Missourians  began  to  think  this  was 
a  little  too  strong,  and  that,  if  they  permitted  such 
aggressions  any  longer,  they  would  be  in  a  fair 
way  of  being  despoiled  of  their  lands  by  the  Mor- 
mon interlopers.  At  length  matters  came  to  a 
crisis,  and  the  Saints,  emboldened  by  the  impunity 
with  which  they  had  hitherto  carried  out  their 
plans,  issued  a  proclamation,  to  the  effect  that  all 
in  that  part  of  the  country  who  did  not  belong 
to  the  Mormon  persuasion  must  "  clear  out,"  and 


306  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

give  up  possession  of  their  lands  and  houses.  The 
Missoui-ians  collected  in  a  body,  burned  the  print- 
ing-press from  which  the  proclamation  had  ema- 
nated, seized  several  of  the  Mormon  leaders,  and> 
after  inflicting  a  summary  chastisement,  tarred 
and  feathered  them,  and  let  them  go. 

To  revenge  this  insult,  the  Mormons  marshaled 
an  army  of  Saints,  and  marched  upon  Independ- 
ence, threatening  vengeance  against  the  town  and 
people.  Here  they  met,  however,  a  band  of  sturdy 
backwoodsmen,  armed  with  rifles,  determined  to  de- 
fend the  town  against  the  fanatic  mob,  who,  not 
relishing  their  appearance,  refused  the  encounter, 
and  surrendered  their  leaders  at  the  first  demand. 
The  prisoners  Avere  afterwards  released,  on  con- 
dition that  the  Mormons  left  that  part  of  the  coun- 
try without  delay. 

Accordingly  they  once  more  "  took  up  their 
beds  and  walked,"  crossing  the  Missouri  to  Clay 
Count}^  where  they  established  themselves,  and 
would  finally  have  formed  a  thriving  settlement 
but  for  their  own  acts  of  willful  dishonesty.  At 
this  time  their  blasphemous  mummery  knew  no 
bounds.  Joe  Smith,  and  other  prophets  who  had 
lately  arisen,  were  declared  to  be  chosen  of  God; 
and  it  was  the  general  creed  that,  on  the  day  of 
judgment,  the  former  would  take  his  stand  on  the 
right  hand  of  the  judgment-seat,  and  that  none 
would  pass  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven  without  his 
seal  and  touch.     One  of  their  tenets  was  the  faith 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  30T 

in  "  spiritual  matrimony."  No  woman,  it  ap- 
peared, would  be  admitted  into  heaven  unless 
"  passed  "  by  a  saint.  To  qualify  them  for  this, 
it  was  necessary  that  the  woman  should  first  be 
received  by  the  guaranteeing  Mormon  as  an 
"  earthly  wife,"  in  order  that  he  did  not  pass  in 
any  of  whom  he  had  no  knowledge.  The  conse- 
quence of  this  state  of  things  may  bs  imagined. 
The  most  debasing  immorality  was  a  precept  of 
the  order,  and  an  almost  universal  concubinage 
existed  amongst  the  sect,  which  at  this  time  num- 
bered at  least  forty  thousand.  Their  disregard 
to  the  laws  of  decency  and  morality  was  such  as 
could  not  be  tolerated  in  any  class  of  civilized 
society. 

Again  did  the  honest  Missourians  set  their  faces 
against  this  pernicious  example,  and  when  the 
county  to  which  the  Mormons  had  removed  be- 
came more  thickly  settled,  they  rose  to  a  man 
against  the  modem  Gomorrah.  The  Mormons, 
by  this  time,  having  on  their  part  gained  con- 
siderable accession  to  their  strength,  thought  to 
set  the  laws  at  defiance,  organized  and  armed  large 
bodies  of  men,  in  order  to  maintain  the  ascendency 
over  the  legitimate  settlers,  and  bid  fair  to  con- 
stitute an  imperiwm  in  imperio  in  the  State,  and 
become  the  sole  possessors  of  the  public  lands. 
This,  of  course,  could  not  be  tolerated.  Gover- 
nor Boggs  at  once  ordered  out  a  large  force  of 
State  militia  to  put  down  this  formidable  demon- 


SOS  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

stration,  marched  against  the  Mormons,  and  sup- 
pressed the  insurrectionary  movement  without 
bloodshed. 

From  Clay  County  they  moved  still  farther  into 
the  wilds,  and  settled  at  last  in  Caldwell  County, 
where  they  built  the  town  of  Far  West,  and  here 
they  remained  for  the  space  of  three  years. 

During  this  time  they  were  continually  receiv- 
ing converts  to  the  faith,  and  many  of  the  more 
ignorant  country  people  were  disposed  to  join 
them,  being  only  deterred  by  the  fear  of  incurring 
ridicule  from  the  stronger-minded.  The  body  of 
the  Mormons  seeing  this,  called  upon  their 
prophet,  Joe  Smith,  to  perform  a  miracle  in  pub- 
lic before  all  comers,  which  was  to  prove  to  those 
of  their  own  people  who  still  doubted  the  doctrine, 
the  truth  of  what  it  advanced  (the  power  of  per- 
forming miracles  was  steadfastly  declared  to  be 
in  their  hands  by  the  prophets),  and  to  enlist 
those  who  wavered  in  the  Mormon  cause. 

The  prophet  instantly  agreed,  and  declared  that, 
upon  a  certain  day  he  would  walk  across  the  broad 
waters  of  the  Missouri  without  wetting  the  soles 
of  his  feet.  On  the  appointed  day  the  river-banks 
were  thronged  by  an  expectant  crowd.  The  Mor- 
mons sang  hymns  of  praise  in  honor  of  their 
prophet,  and  were  proud  of  the  forthcoming  mir- 
acle, which  was  to  set  finally  at  rest  all  doubt 
as  to  his  power  and  sanctity. 

This  power  of  performing  miracles  and  effect- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  309 

ing  miraculous  cures  of  the  sick,  was  so  generally 
believed  by  the  Mormons,  that  physic  was  never 
used  amongst  them.  The  prophets  visited  the 
beds  of  the  sick,  and  laid  hands  upon  them,  and 
if,  as  of  course  was  almost  invariably  the  case, 
the  patient  died,  it  was  attributed  to  his  or  her 
want  of  faith ;  but  if,  on  the  contrary,  the  patient 
recovered,  there  was  universal  glorification  on  the 
miraculous  cure. 

Joe  Smith  was  a  tall  fine-looking  man,  of  most 
plausible  address,  and  possessed  the  gift  of  the 
gab  in  great  perfection.  At  the  time  appointed 
for  the  performance  of  the  walking-water  miracle, 
he  duly  attended  on  the  river's  bank,  and  descended 
barefoot  to  the  edge  of  the  water. 

"  My  brethren !  "  he  exclaimed,  in  a  loud  voice, 
"  this  day  is  a  happy  one  to  me,  to  us  all,  who 
venerate  the  great  and  only  faith.  The  truth  of 
our  great  and  blessed  doctrine  will  now  be  proved 
before  the  thousands  I  see  around  me.  You  have 
asked  me  to  prove  by  a  miracle  that  the  power  of 
the  prophets  of  old  has  been  given  to  me.  I  say 
unto  you,  not  only  to  me,  but  to  all  who  have 
faith.  I  have  faith,  and  can  perform  miracles  — 
that  faith  empowers  me  to  walk  across  the  broad 
surface  of  that  mighty  river  without  wetting  the 
soles  of  my  unworthy  feet ;  but  if  ye  are  to  see 
this  miracle  performed,  it  is  necessary  that  ye 
have  faith  also,  not  only  in  yourselves,  but  in  me. 
Have  ye  this  faith  in  yourselves  ?  " 


SIO  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

"  We  have,  we  have !  "  roared  the  crowd. 

"  Have  ye  the  faith  in  me,  that  ye  believe  I 
can  perform  this  miracle?  " 

"  We  have,  we  have !  "  roared  the  crowd. 

"  Then,"  said  Joe  Smith,  coolly  walking  away, 
**  with  such  faith  do  ye  know  well  that  I  could, 
but  it  boots  not  that  I  should,  do  it ;  therefore, 
my  brethren,  doubt  no  more  " —  and  Joe  put  on 
his  boots  and  disappeared. 

Being  again  compelled  to  emigrate,  the  Mor- 
mons proceeded  into  the  state  of  Illinois,  where, 
in  a  beautiful  situation,  they  founded  the  new 
Jerusalem,  which,  it  had  been  declared  by  the 
prophet  Mormon,  should  rise  out  of  the  wilder- 
ness of  the  v/est,  and  where  the  chosen  people 
should  be  collected  under  one  church,  and  gov- 
erned by  the  elders  after  a  "  spiritual  fashion." 

The  city  of  Nauvoo  soon  became  a  large  and 
imposing  settlement.  An  enormous  building, 
called  the  Temple  of  Zion,  was  erected,  half  church, 
half  hotel,  in  which  Joe  Smith  and  the  other 
prophets  resided  —  and  large  store-houses  were 
connected  with  it,  in  which  the  goods  and  chattels 
belonging  to  the  community  were  kept  for  the  com- 
mon good. 

However,  here,  as  everywhere  else,  they  were 
continually  quarreling  with  their  neighbors ;  and 
as  their  numbers  increased,  so  did  their  audacity. 
A  regular  Mormon  militia  was  again  organized 
and  armed,  under  the  command  of  experienced  of- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  311 

•ficers  who  had  joined  the  sect ;  and  now  the  author- 
ity of  the  state  government  was  openly  defied. 
In  consequence,  the  executive  took  measures  to 
put  down  the  nuisance,  and  a  regular  Avar  com- 
menced, and  was  carried  on  for  some  time,  with 
no  little  bloodshed  on  both  sides ;  and  this  armed 
movement  is  known  in  the  United  States  as  the 
Mormon  war.  The  Mormons,  however,  who,  it 
seemed,  were  much  better  skilled  in  the  use  of  the 
tongue  than  the  rifle,  succumbed:  the  city  of 
Nauvoo  was  taken,  Joe  Smith  and  other  ring- 
leading  prophets  captured ;  and  the  former,  in  an 
attempt  to  escape  from  his  place  of  confinement, 
was  seized  and  shot.  The  Mormons  declare  he 
had  long  foretold  his  own  fate ;  and  that  when  the 
rifles  of  the  firing  party  who  were  his  executioners 
were  leveled  at  the  prophet's  breast,  a  flash  of 
lightning  struck  the  weapons  from  their  hands, 
and  blinded  for  a  time  the  eyes  of  the  sacrilegious 
soldiers. 

With  the  death  of  Joe  Smith  the  prestige  of  the 
Mormon  cause  declined ;  but  still  thousands  of 
proselytes  joined  them  annually,  and  at  last  the 
state  took  measures  to  remove  them  altogether, 
as  a  body,  from  the  country. 

Once  again  they  fled,  as  they  themselves  term 
it,  before  the  persecutions  of  the  ungodly !  But 
this  time  their  migration  was  far  beyond  the  reach 
of  their  enemies,  and  their  intention  was  to  place 
between  them  the  impassable  barrier  of  the  Rocky 


Sia  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

Mountains,  and  to  seek  a  home  and  resting-place 
in  the  remote  regions  of  the  Far  West. 

This,  the  most  extraordinary  migration  of  mod- 
ern times  commenced  in  the  year  1845 ;  but  it  was 
not  till  the  following  year  that  the  great  body  of 
the  Mormons  turned  their  backs  upon  the  settle- 
ments of  the  United  States,  and  launched  boldly 
out  into  the  vast  and  barren  prairies,  without  any 
fixed  destination  as  a  goal  to  their  endless  journey. 
For  many  months  long  strings  of  Pittsburgh  and 
Conestoga  wagons,  with  herds  of  horses  and  do- 
mestic cattle,  wound  their  way  towards  the  Indian 
frontier,  with  the  intention  of  rendezvousing  at 
Council  Bluffs  on  the  Upper  Missouri.  Here 
thousands  of  wagons  were  congregated,  with  their 
tens  of  thousands  of  men,  women,  and  children, 
anxiously  waiting  the  route  from  the  elders  of  the 
Church,  who  on  their  parts  scarcely  knew  whither 
to  direct  the  steps  of  the  vast  crowd  they  had  set 
in  motion.  At  length  the  indefinite  destination  of 
Oregon  and  California  was  proclaimed,  and  the 
long  train  of  emigrants  took  up  the  line  of  march. 
It  was  believed  the  Indian  tribes  would  immedi- 
ately fraternize  with  the  Mormons  on  their  ap- 
proaching their  country;  but  the  Pawnees  quickly 
undeceived  them  by  running  off  with  their  stock 
on  every  opportunity.  Besides  these  losses,  at 
every  camp,  horses,  sheep,  and  oxen  strayed  away 
and  were  not  recovered,  and  numbers  died  from 
fatigue  and  want  of  provender;  so  that,  before 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  313 

they  had  been  many  weeks  on  their  j  oumey,  nearly 
all  their  cattle,  which  they  had  brought  to  stock 
their  new  country,  were  dead  or  missing,  and  those 
that  were  left  were  in  most  miserable  condition. 

They  had  started  so  late  in  the  season  that  the 
greater  part  were  compelled  to  winter  on  the 
Platte,  on  Grand  Island,  and  in  the  vicinity,  where 
they  endured  the  greatest  privations  and  suffer- 
ing from  cold  and  hunger.  Many  who  had  lost 
their  stock  lived  upon  roots  and  pig-nuts ;  and 
scurvy,  in  a  most  malignant  form,  and  other  dis- 
orders, carried  off  numbers  of  the  wretched 
fanatics. 

Amongst  them  were  many  substantial  farmers 
from  all  parts  of  the  United  States,  who  had  given 
up  their  valuable  farms,  sold  off  all  their  property, 
and  were  dragging  their  irresponsible  and  unfor- 
tunate families  into  the  wilderness  —  carried  away 
by  their  blind  and  fanatic  zeal  in  this  absurd  and 
incredible  faith.  There  were  also  many  poor 
wretches  from  different  parts  of  England,  mostly 
of  the  farm-laboring  class,  with  wives  and  families, 
crawling  along  with  helpless  and  almost  idiotic 
despair,  but  urged  forward  by  the  fanatic  leaders 
of  the  movement,  who  promised  them  a  land  flow- 
ing with  milk  and  honey  to  reward  them  for  all 
their  hardships  and  privations. 

Their  numbers  were  soon  reduced  by  want  and 
disease.  When  too  late,  they  often  wished  them- 
selves back  in  the  old  country,  and  sighed  many  a 


814  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

time  for  the  beer  and  bacon  of  former  days,  now 
preferable  to  the  dry  buffalo-meat  (but  seldom 
obtainable)   of  the  Far  West. 

Evil  fortune  pursued  the  Mormons,  and  dogged 
their  steps.  The  year  following,  some  struggled 
on  towards  the  promised  land,  and  of  these  a  few 
reached  Oregon  and  California.  INIany  were 
killed  by  hostile  Indians ;  many  perished  of  hun- 
ger, cold,  and  thirst,  in  passing  the  great  wilder- 
ness ;  and  many  returned  to  the  States,  penniless 
and  crestfallen,  and  heartily  cursing  the  moment 
in  which  they  had  listened  to  the  counsels  of  the 
Mormon  prophet.  The  numbers  who  reached 
their  destination  of  Oregon,  California,  and  the 
Great  Salt  Lake,  are  computed  at  20,000,  of 
whom  the  United  States  had  an  unregretted  rid- 
dance. 

One  party  had  followed  the  troops  of  the  Ameri- 
can Government  intended  for  the  conquest  of  New 
Mexico  and  the  Califomias.  Of  these  a  battalion 
was  formed,  and  part  of  it  proceeded  to  Upper 
California ;  but  the  way  being  impracticable  for 
wagons,  some  seventy  families  proceeded  up  the 
Arkansa,  and  wintered  near  the  mountains,  in- 
tending to  cross  to  the  Platte  the  ensuing  spring, 
and  join  the  main  body  of  emigrants  on  their  way 
by  the  South  Pass  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 

In  the  wide  and  Avell-timbered  bottom  of  the 
Arkansa,  the  Mormons  had  erected  a  street  of 
log  shanties  in  which  to  pass  the  inclement  winter. 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  315 

These  were  built  of  rough  logs  of  cottonwood 
laid  one  above  the  other,  the  interstices  filled  with 
mud,  and  rendered  impervious  to  wind  or  wet. 
At  one  end  of  the  row  of  shanties  was  built  the 
church  or  "  temple  " —  a  long  building  of  huge 
logs,  in  which  the  prayer-meetings  and  holdings- 
forth  took  place.  The  band  wintering  on  the 
Arkansa  were  a  far  better  class  than  the  generality 
of  Mormons,  and  comprised  many  wealthy  and 
respectable  farmers  from  the  western  states,  most 
of  whom  were  accustomed  to  the  life  of  woodmen, 
and  were  good  hunters.  Thus  they  were  enabled 
to  support  their  families  upon  the  produce  of  their 
rifles,  frequently  sallying  out  to  the  nearest  point 
of  the  mountains  v/ith  a  wagon,  which  they  would 
bring  back  loaded  with  buffalo,  deer,  and  elk 
meat,  thereby  saving  the  necessity  of  killing  any 
of  their  stock  of  cattle,  of  which  but  few  remained. 
The  mountain  hunters  found  this  camp  a  profit- 
able market  for  their  meat  and  deer-skins,  with 
which  the  Mormons  were  now  compelled  to  clothe 
themselves,  and  resorted  there  for  that  purpose  — 
to  say  nothing  of  the  attraction  of  the  many 
really  beautiful  Missourian  girls  who  sported 
their  tall  graceful  figures  at  the  frequent  fan- 
dangos. Dancing  and  preaching  go  hand  in  hand 
in  Mormon  doctrine,  and  the  temple  was  gener- 
ally cleared  for  a  hop  two  or  three  times  during 
the  week,  a  couple  of  fiddles  doing  the  duty  of 
orchestra.     A  party  of  mountaineers  came  in  one 


316  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

day,  bringing  some  buffalo-meat  and  dressed  deer- 
skins, and  were  invited  to  be  present  at  one  of 
these  festivals. 

Arrived  at  the  temple,  they  were  rather  taken 
aback  by  finding  themselves  in  for  a  sermon,  which 
one  of  the  elders  delivered  preparatory  to  the 
"  physical  exercises."  The  preacher  was  one 
Brown  —  called,  by  reason  of  his  commanding  a 
company  of  Mormon  volunteers,  "  Cap'n  Brown  " 

—  a  hard-featured,  black-coated  man  of  five-and- 
forty,  correctly  got  up  in  black  continuations,  and 
white  handkerchief  round  his  neck, —  a  costume 
seldom  seen  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
The  Cap'n,  rising,  cleared  his  voice,  and  thus 
commenced,  first  turning  to  an  elder  (with  whom 
there  was  a  little  rivalry  in  the  way  of  preach- 
ing) :  "  Brother  Dowdle  "  (brother  Dowdle  blushed 
and  nodded,  he  was  a  long  tallow-faced  man,  with 
black  hair  combed  over  his  face),  "  I  feel  like 
holding  forth  a  little  this  afternoon,  before  we 
glorify  the  Lord, —  a  —  a  —  in  the  —  a  —  holy 
dance.  As  there  are  a  many  strange  gentlemen 
now  —  a  —  present,  it's  about  right  to  tell  'em 

—  a  —  what  our  doctrine  just  is;  and  so  I  tells 
'em  right  off  what  the  Mormons  is.  They  are 
the  chosen  of  the  Lord;  they  are  the  children  of 
glory,  persecuted  by  the  hand  of  man:  they  flies 
here  to  the  wilderness,  and,  amongst  the  Injine 
and  the  buffer,  they  lifts  up  their  heads,  and 
cries  with  a  loud  voice,  *  Susannah,  and  hurray  for 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  317 

the  promised  land ! '  Do  you  believe  it  ?  I  know 
it. 

"  They  wants  to  know  whar  we're  going. 
Whar  the  church  goes  —  thar  we  goes.  Yes,  to 
hell,  and  pull  the  devil  off  his  throne  —  that's 
what  we'll  do.     Do  you  believe  it?     I  know  it. 

"  Thar's  milk  and  honey  in  that  land  as  we're 
goin'  to,  and  the  lost  tribes  of  Israel  is  thar,  and 
will  jine  us.  They  say  as  we'll  starve  on  the  road, 
bekase  thar's  no  game  and  no  water;  but  thar's 
manna  up  in  heaven,  and  it'll  rain  on  us,  and 
thar's  prophets  among  us  can  make  the  water 
*  come.'     Can't  th-ey,  brother  Dowdle  ?  " 

"  Well,  they  can." 

"  And  now,  what  have  the  Gentiles  and  the 
ThiVistines   to   say   against   us   Mormons.''     They 

says   we're   thieves,   and   steal   hogs ;   yes,    d 

'em!  they  say  we  has  as  many  wives  as  we  like. 
So  we  have.  I've  twenty  —  forty,  myself,  and 
mean  to  have  as  many  more  as  I  can  get.  But 
it's  to  pass  unfortunate  females  into  heaven  that 
I  has  'em  —  yes,  to  prevent  'em  going  to  roaring 
flames  and  damnation  that  I  does  it. 

"  Brother  Dowdle,"  he  continued,  in  a  hoarse, 
low  voice,  "  I've  *  give  out,'  and  think  we'd  better 
begin  the  exercises  grettful  to  the  Lord." 

Brother  Dowdle  rose,  and,  after  saying  that 
"he  didn't  feel  like  saying  much,"  begged  to  re- 
mind aU  hajids  that  dancing  was  "  solemn  like,  to 
be  done  with  proper  devotion,  and  not  with  laugh- 


318  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

ing  and  talking,  of  which  he  hoped  to  hear  little 
or  none;  that  joy  was  to  be  in  their  hearts,  and 
not  on  their  lips ;  that  they  danced  for  the  glory 
of  the  Lord,  and  not  their  own  amusement,  as 
did  the  Gentiles."  After  saying  thus,  he  called 
upon  brother  Ezra  to  "  strike  up " :  sundry 
couples  stood  forth,  and  the  ball  commenced. 

Ezra  of  the  violin  was  a  tall  shambling  Mis- 
sourian,  with  a  pair  of  homespun  pantaloons 
thrust  into  the  legs  of  his  heavy  boots.  Nodding 
his  head  in  time  with  the  music,  he  occasionally 
gave  instructions  to  such  of  the  dancers  as  were 
at  fault,  singing  them  to  the  tune  he  was  playing, 
in  a  dismal  nasal  tone, — 

"  Down    the    center  —  hands   across, 
You  Jake  Herring  —  thump  it, 
Now,  you  all  go  right  ahead  — 
Every  one  of  you  hump  it. 

Every  one  of  you  —  hump  it" 

The  last  words  being  the  signal  that  all  should 
clap  the  steam  on,  which  they  did  con  amore,  and 
with  comical  seriousness. 

A  mountaineer,  Rube  Herring,  whom  we  have 
more  than  once  met  in  the  course  of  this  narra- 
tive, became  a  convert  to  the  Mormon  creed,  and 
held  forth  its  wonderful  doctrines  to  such  of  the 
incredulous  trappers  as  he  could  induce  to  listen 
to  him.  Old  Rube  stood  nearly  six  feet  six  in 
height,   and  was  spare  and  bony  in  make.     He 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  319 

had  picked  up  a  most  extraordinary  cloth  coat 
amongst  the  Mormons,  which  had  belonged  to 
some  one  his  equal  in  stature.  This  coat,  which 
Avas  of  a  snufF-brown  color,  had  its  waist  about 
a  hand's  span  from  the  nape  of  Rube's  neck,  or 
about  a  yard  above  its  proper  position,  and  the 
skirts  reached  to  his  ankles,  A  slouching  felt- 
hat  covered  his  head,  from  which  long  black  hair 
escaped,  hanging  in  flakes  over  his  lantern  jaws. 
His  pantaloons  of  buckskin  were  shrunk  with  wet, 
and  reached  midway  between  his  knees  and  ankles, 
and  his  huge  feet  were  incased  in  moccasins  of 
buffalo-cow  skin. 

Rube  was  never  without  the  book  of  Mormon 
in  his  hand,  and  his  sonorous  voice  might  be  heard, 
at  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night,  reading  pas- 
sages from  its  wonderful  pages.  He  stood  the 
badgering  of  the  hunters  with  most  perfect  good- 
humor,  and  said  there  never  was  such  a  book  as 
that  ever  before  printed ;  that  the  Mormons  were 
the  "  biggest  kind  "  of  prophets,  and  theirs  the 
best  faith  ever  man  believed  in. 

Rube  had  let  out  one  day  that  he  was  to  be 
hired  as  guide  by  this  party  of  Mormons  to  the 
Great  Salt  Lake;  but  their  destination  being 
changed,  and  his  services  not  required,  a  wonder- 
ful change  came  over  his  mind.  He  was,  as  usual, 
book  of  Mormon  in  hand,  when  brother  Brown 
announced  the  change  in  their  plans ;  at  which 
the  book  was  cast  into  the  Arkansa,  and  Rube 


SW  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

exclaimed  — "  Cuss   your  darned   Mummum  and 
Thummum!  thar's  not  one  among  you  knows  fat 

cow  from  poor  bull,  and  you  may  go  to  h 

for  me."     And  turning  away,  old  Rube  spat  out 
a  quid  of  tobacco  and  his  Mormonism  together. 

Amongst  the  Mormons  was  an  old  man  named 
Brand,  from  Memphis  County,  State  of  Tennessee, 
with  a  family  of  a  daughter  and  two  sons,  the  lat- 
ter with  their  wives  and  children.  Brand  was  a 
wiry  old  fellow,  nearly  seventy  years  of  age,  but 
still  stout  and  strong,  and  wielded  ax  or  rifle 
better  than  many  a  younger  man.  If  truth  be 
told,  he  was  not  a  very  red-hot  Mormon,  and  had 
joined  them  as  much  for  the  sake  of  company  to 
California,  whither  he  had  long  resolved  to  emi- 
grate, as  from  any  implicit  credence  in  the  faith. 
His  sons  were  strapping  fellows,  of  the  sterling 
stuff  that  the  Western  pioneers  are  made  of;  his 
daughter  Mary,  a  fine  woman  of  thirty,  for  whose 
state  of  single  blessedness  there  must  doubtless 
have  been  sufficient  reason ;  for  she  was  not  only 
remarkably  handsome,  but  was  well  known  in 
Memphis  to  be  the  best-tempered  and  most  in- 
dustrious young  woman  in  those  diggings.  She 
was  known  to  have  received  several  advantageous 
offers,  all  of  which  she  had  refused;  and  report 
said  that  it  was  from  having  been  disappointed  in 
very  early  life  in  an  affaire  du  coeur,  at  an  age 
when  such  wounds  sometimes  strike  strong  and 
deep,  leaving  a  scar  difficult  to  heal.     Neither  his 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  321 

daughter  nor  any  of  his  family  had  been  con- 
verted to  the  Mormon  doctrine,  but  had  ever  kept 
themselves  aloof,  and  refused  to  join  or  associate 
with  them ;  and,  for  this  reason,  the  family  had  been 
very  unpopular  with  the  Mormon  families  on  the 
Arkansa;  and  hence,  probably,  one  great  reason 
why  they  now  started  alone  on  their  journey. 

Spring  had  arrived,  and  it  was  time  the  Mor- 
mons should  proceed  on  their  march ;  but  whether 
already  tired  of  the  sample  they  had  had  of  life 
in  the  wilderness,  or  fearful  of  encountering  the 
prerils  of  the  Indian  country,  not  one  amongst 
them,  with  the  exception  of  old  Brand,  seemed  in- 
clined to  pursue  the  journey  farther.  That  old 
backwoodsman,  however,  was  not  to  be  deterred, 
but  declared  his  intention  of  setting  out  alone, 
with  his  family,  and  risking  all  the  dangers  to  be 
anticipated. 

One  fine  sunny  evening  in  April  of  1847,  when 
the  cottonwoods  on  the  banks  of  the  Arkansa  be- 
gan to  put  forth  their  buds,  and  robins  and  blue- 
birds —  harbingers  of  spring  —  were  hopping 
with  gaudy  plumage  through  the  thickets,  three 
white-tilted  Conestoga  wagons  emerged  from  the 
timbered  bottom  of  the  river,  and  rumbled  slowly 
over  the  prairie,  in  the  direction  of  the  Platte's 
waters.  Each  wagon  was  drawn  by  eight  oxen, 
and  contained  a  portion  of  the  farming  imple- 
ments and  household  utensils  of  the  Brand  family. 
The  teams  were  driven  by  the  young  boys,  the 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

men  following  in  rear  with  shouldered  rifles  — 
old  Brand  himself,  mounted  on  an  Indian  horse, 
leading  the  advance.  The  women  were  safely 
housed  under  the  shelter  of  the  wagon-tilts,  and 
out  of  the  first  the  mild  face  of  Mary  Brand 
smiled  adieu  to  many  of  her  old  companions  who 
had  accompanied  them  thus  far,  and  now  wished 
them  "God-speed"  on  their  long  journey.  Some 
mountaineers,  too,  galloped  up  dressed  in  buck- 
skin, and  gave  them  rough  greeting  —  warning 
the  men  to  keep  their  "  eyes  skinned,"  and  look 
out  for  the  Arapahos,  who  were  out  on  the 
waters  of  the  Platte.  Presently  all  retired,  and 
then  the  huge  wagons  and  the  little  company  were 
rolling  on  their  solitary  way  through  the  deserted 
prairies  —  passing  the  first  of  the  many  thousand 
miles  which  lay  between  them  and  the  "  setting 
sun,"  as  the  Indians  style  the  distant  regions  of 
the  Far  West.  And  on,  without  casting  a  look 
behind  him,  doggedly  and  boldly  marched  old 
Brand,  followed  by  his  sturdy  family. 

They  made  but  a  few  miles  that  evening,  for 
the  first  day  the  start  is  all  that  is  effected;  and 
nearly  the  whole  morning  is  taken  up  in  getting 
fairly  under  weigh.  The  loose  stock  had  been 
sent  off  earlier,  for  they  had  been  collected  and 
corraled  the  previous  night ;  and,  after  a  twelve 
hours'  fast,  it  was  necessary  they  should  reach 
the  end  of  the  day's  journey  betimes.  They 
found  the  herd  grazing  in  the  bottom  of  the  Ar- 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  323 

kansa,  at  a  point  previously  fixed  upon  for  their 
first  camp.  Here  the  oxen  were  unyoked,  and 
the  wagons  drawn  up  so  as  to  form  three  sides 
of  a  small  square.  The  women  then  descended 
from  their  seats,  and  prepared  the  evening  meal. 
A  huge  fire  was  kindled  before  the  wagons,  and 
round  this  the  whole  party  collected ;  whilst  large 
kettles  of  coffee  boiled  on  it,  and  hoe-cakes  baked 
upon  the  embers. 

The  women  were  sadly  down-hearted,  as  well 
they  might  be,  with  the  dreary  prospect  before 
them;  and  poor  Mary,  when  she  saw  the  Mormon 
encampment  shut  out  from  her  sight  by  the  roll- 
ing bluffs,  and  nothing  before  her  but  the  bleak 
barren  prairie,  could  not  divest  herself  of  the 
idea  that  she  had  looked  for  the  last  time  on  civil- 
ized fellow-creatures,  and  fairly  burst  into  tears. 

In  the  morning  the  heavy  wagons  rolled  on 
again  across  the  upland  prairies,  to  strike  the  trail 
used  by  the  traders  in  passing  from  the  south  fork 
of  the  Platte  to  the  Arkansa.  They  had  for 
guide  a  Canadian  voyageur,  who  had  been  in  the 
service  of  the  Indian  traders,  and  knew  the  route 
well,  and  who  had  agreed  to  pilot  them  to  Fort 
Lancaster,  on  the  north  fork  of  the  Platte.  Their 
course  led  for  about  thirty  miles  up  the  Boiling 
Spring  River,  whence  they  pursued  a  north- 
easterly course  to  the  dividing  ridge  which  sepa- 
rates the  waters  of  the  Platte  and  Arkansa.  Their 
progress  was  slow,  for  the  ground  was  saturated 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

with  wet,  and  exceedingly  heavy  for  the  cattle, 
and  they  scarcely  advanced  more  than  ten  miles 
a-day. 

At  the  camp-fire  at  night,  Antoine,  the  Cana- 
dian guide,  amused  them  with  tales  of  the  wild  life 
and  perilous  adventures  of  the  hunters  and  trap- 
pers who  make  the  mountains  their  home ;  often 
extorting  a  scream  from  the  women  by  the  de- 
scription of  some  scene  of  Indian  fight  and  slaugh- 
ter, or  beguiling  them  of  a  commiserating  tear 
by  the  narrative  of  the  sufferings  and  privations 
endured  by  those  hardy  hunters  in  their  arduous 
Hfe. 

Mary  listened  with  the  greater  interest  since 
she  remembered  that  such  was  the  life  which  had 
been  led  by  one  very  dear  to  her  —  by  one  long 
supposed  to  be  dead,  of  whom  she  had  never  but 
once  since  his  departure,  nearly  fifteen  years  be- 
fore, heard  a  syllable.  Her  imagination  pictured 
him  as  the  bravest  and  most  daring  of  these  ad- 
venturous hunters,  and  conjured  up  his  figure 
charging  through  the  midst  of  whooping  sav- 
ages, or  stretched  on  the  ground  perishing  from 
wounds,  or  cold,  or  famine. 

Amongst  the  characters  who  figured  in  An- 
toine's  stories,  a  hunter  named  La  Bonte  was 
made  conspicuous  for  deeds  of  hardiness  and  dar- 
ing. The  first  mention  of  the  name  caused  the 
blood  to  rush  to  Mary's  face;  not  that  she  for 
a  moment  imagined  it  was  her  La  Bonte,  for  she 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  325 

knew  the  name  was  a  common  one ;  but,  associated 
with  feelings  which  she  had  never  got  the  better 
of,  it  recalled  a  sad  epoch  in  her  former  life,  to 
which  she  could  not  look  back  without  mingled 
pain  and  pleasure. 

Once  only,  and  about  two  years  after  his  de- 
parture, had  she  ever  received  tidings  of  her 
former  lover.  A  mountaineer  had  returned  from 
the  Far  West  to  settle  in  his  native  state,  and  had 
found  his  way  to  the  neighborhood  of  old  Brand's 
farm.  Meeting  him  by  accident,  Mary,  hearing 
him  speak  of  the  mountain  hunters,  had  inquired, 
tremblingly,  after  La  Bonte.  Her  informant 
knew  him  well  —  had  trapped  in  company  with 
him  —  and  had  heard  at  the  trading-fort,  whence 
he  had  taken  his  departure  for  the  settlements, 
that  La  Bonte  had  been  killed  on  the  Yellow 
Stone  by  Blackfeet;  which  report  was  confirmed 
by  some  Indians  of  that  nation.  This  was  all  she 
had  ever  learned  of  the  lover  of  her  youth. 

Now,  upon  hearing  the  name  of  La  Bonte  so 
often  mentioned  by  Antoine,  a  vague  hope  was 
raised  in  her  breast  that  he  was  still  alive ;  and 
she  took  an  opportunity  of  questioning  the  Cana- 
dian closely  on  the  subject. 

"  Who  was  this  La  Bonte,  Antoine,  who  you 
say  was  so  brave  a  mountaineer.'^  "  she  asked  one 
day. 

"  J'ne  sais  pas ;  he  vas  un  beau  gar9on,  and 
strong  comme  le  diable  —  enfant  de  garce,  mais 


326  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

he  pas  not  care  a  dam  for  les  sauvages,  pe  gar. 
He  shoot  do  centare  avec  his  carabine,  and  ride 
de  cheval  comme  one  Comanche.  He  trap  heap 
castor  (what  you  call  beevare),  and  get  plenty 
dollare  —  mais  he  open  hand  vare  wide  —  and  got 
none  too.  Den,  he  hont  vid  de  Blackfoot  and  avec 
de  Cheyenne,  and  all  round  de  montaignes  he  hont 
dam  sight." 

*'  But,  Antoine,  what  became  of  him  at  last.'' 
and  why  did  he  not  come  home,  when  he  made  so 
many  dollars  ?  "  asked  poor  Mary. 

"  Enfant  de  garce,  mais  pourquoi  he  com  home? 
Pe  gar,  de  montaigne-man,  he  love  de  montaigne 
and  de  prairie  more  better  dan  he  love  de  grandes 
villes  —  meme  de  St.  Louis  ou  de  Montreal. 
Wagh !  La  Bonte,  well,  he  one  montaigne-man, 
wagh !  He  love  de  bufFaloe  and  de  chevreaux  plus 
que  de  bceuf  and  de  mouton,  maybe.  Mais  on  dit 
dat  he  have  autre  raison  —  dat  de  gal  he  lofe  in 
Missouri  not  lofe  him,  and  for  dis  he  not  go  back. 
Mais  now  he  go  ondare,  m'on  dit.  He  vas  go  to 
de  Californe,  maybe  to  steal  de  hose  and  de  mule 
—  pe  gar,  and  de  Espagnols  rub  him  out,  and  take 
his  hair,  so  he  mort." 

"  But  are  you  sure  of  this ,''  "  she  asked,  trem- 
bling with  grief. 

"Ah,  now,  j'ne  suis  pas  sur;  mais  I  tink  you 
know  dis  La  Bonte.  Enfant  de  garce,  maybe  you 
de  gal  in  Missouri  he  lofe,  and  not  lofe  him.  Pe 
gar !   'fant   de   garce !   fort   beau  gar9on   dis   La 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  327 

Bonte;  pourquoi  you  ne  I'aimez  pas?  Maybe  he 
not  go  ondare.  Maybe  he  turn  op,  autrefois. 
De  trappares,  dey  go  ondare  tree,  four,  ten  timeSj 
mais  dey  turn  op  twenty  time.  De  sauvage  not 
able  for  kill  La  Bonte,  ni  de  dam  Espagnols.  Ah, 
non !  ne  craignez  pas ;  be  gar,  he  not  gone  ondare 
encore." 

Spite  of  the  good-natured  attempts  of  the  Cana- 
dian, poor  Mary  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears :  not 
that  the  information  took  her  unawares,  for  she 
long  had  believed  her  lover  dead ;  but  because  the 
very  mention  of  his  name  awoke  the  strongest  feel- 
ings within  her  breast,  and  taught  her  how  deep 
was  the  affection  she  had  felt  for  him  whose  loss 
and  violent  fate  she  now  bewailed. 

As  the  wagons  of  the  lone  caravan  roll  on 
towards  the  Platte,  we  return  to  the  camp  where 
La  Bonte,  Killbuck,  and  the  stranger,  were  sitting 
before  the  fire  when  last  we  saw  them.  Killbuck 
loquitur:  — 

"  The  doin's  of  them  Mormon  fools  can't  be 
beat  by  Spaniards,  stranger.  Their  mummums 
and  thummums  you  speak  of  won't  shine  whar  In- 
juns are  about ;  nor  pint  out  a  trail,  whar  nothin' 
crossed  but  rattler-snakes  since  fust  it  snowed  on 
old  Pike's  Peak.  If  they  pack  along  them 
prof^ts,  as  you  tell  of,  who  can  make  it  rain  hump- 
ribs  and  marrow-guts  when  the  crowd  gets  out  of 
the  buffler  range,  they  are  some>  now,  that's  a 
fact.     But  this  child  don't  believe  it.     I'd  laugh 


328  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

to  get  a  sight  on  these  darned  Mormonites,  I 
would.  They're  no  account,  I  guess ;  and  it's  the 
meanest  kind  of  action  to  haul  their  women  crit- 
ters and  their  young  'uns  to  sech  a  starving  coun- 
try as  the  Californys." 

"  They  are  not  all  Mormons  in  the  crowd,"  said 
the  strange  hunter ;  "  and  there's  one  family 
amongst  them  with  some  smartish  boys  and  girls, 
I  tell  you.     Their  name's  Brand." 

La  Bonte  looked  up  from  the  lock  of  his  rifle, 
which  he  was  cleaning  —  but  either  didn't  hear, 
or,  hearing,  didn't  heed,  for  he  continued  his  work. 

"  And  they  are  going  to  part  company,"  con- 
tinued the  stranger,  *'  and  put  out  alone  for 
Platte  and  the  South  Pass." 

"  They'll  lose  their  hair,  I'm  thinking^  *  said 
Killbuck,  *'  if  the  Rapahos  are  out  thar." 

"  I  hope  not,"  continued  the  other,  "  for  there's 
a  girl  amongst  them  worth  more  than  that." 

"  Poor  beaver ! "  said  La  Bonte,  looking  up 
from  his  work.  "  I'd  hate  to  see  any  white  gal 
in  the  hands  of  Injuns,  and  of  Rapahos  worse  than 
all.     Where  does  she  come  from,  stranger  .^  " 

"  Down  below  St.  Louis,  from  Tennessee,  I've 
heard  them  say." 

"  Tennessee,"   cried  La  Bonte, —  "  hurrah   for 

the    old    state!     What's    her    name,    stran " 

At  this  moment  Killbuck's  old  mule  pricked  her 
ears  and  snuffed  the  air,  which  action  catching 
La  -Bonte's  eye,  he  rose  abruptly,  without  waiting 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  329 

a  reply  to  his  question,  and  exclaimed,  "  The  old 
mule  smells  Injuns,  or  I'm  a  Spaniard!" 

The  hunter  did  the  old  mule  justice,  and  she 
well  maintained  her  reputation  as  the  best  guard 
in  the  mountains ;  for  in  two  minutes  an  Indian 
stalked  into  the  camp,  dressed  in  a  cloth  capote, 
and  in  odds  and  ends  of  civilized  attire. 

"  Rapaho,"  cried  Killbuck,  as  soon  as  he  saw 
him ;  and  the  Indian  catching  the  word,  struck 
his  hand  upon  his  breast,  and  exclaimed,  in  broken 
Spanish  and  English  mixed,  "  Si,  si,  me  Arapaho, 
white  man  amigo.  Come  to  camp  —  eat  heap 
came  —  me  amigo  white  man.  Come  from  Pueblo 
—  hunt  cibola  —  me  gun  break  —  no  puedo  matar 
nada:  mucha  hambre  (very  hungry) — heap 
eat." 

Killbuck  offered  his  pipe  to  the  Indian,  and 
spoke  to  him  in  his  own  language,  which  both  he 
and  La  Bonte  well  understood.  They  learned  that 
h«»  was  married  to  a  Mexican  woman,  and  lived 
with  some  hunters  at  the  Pueblo  fort  on  the  Ar- 
kansa.  He  A'olunteered  the  information  that  a 
war-party  of  his  people  were  out  on  the  Platte 
trail  to  intercept  the  Indian  traders  on  their  re- 
turn from  the  North  Fork ;  and  as  some  "  Mor- 
mones  "  had  just  started  with  three  wagons  in  that 
direction,  he  said  his  people  would  make  a  "  raise." 
Being  muy  amigo  himself  to  the  whites,  he  cau- 
tioned his  present  companions  from  crossing  to 
the  divide,  as  the  braves,  he  said,  were  a  heap 


330  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

mad,  and  their  hearts  were  big,  and  nothing  in 
the  shape  of  white  skin  would  live  before  them. 

"  Wagh !  "  exclaimed  Killbuck,  "  the  Rapahos 
know  me,  I'm  thinking;  and  small  gain  they've 
made  against  this  child.  I've  knowed  the  time 
when  my  gun-cover  couldn't  hold  more  of  their 
scalps." 

The  Indian  was  provided  with  some  powder,  of 
which  he  stood  in  need ;  and  after  gorging  as  much 
meat  as  his  capacious  stomach  would  hold,  he 
left  the  camp,  and  started  into  the  mountain. 

The  next  day  our  hunters  started  on  their  jour- 
ney down  the  river,  traveling  leisurely,  and  stop- 
ping wherever  good  grass  presented  itself.  One 
morning  they  suddenly  struck  a  wheel-trail,  which 
left  the  creek-banks  and  pursued  a  course  at  right 
angles  to  it,  in  the  direction  of  the  divide.  Kill- 
buck  pronounced  it  but  a  few  hours  old,  and  that 
of  three  wagons  drawn  by  oxen. 

"  Wagh !  "  he  exclaimed,  "  if  them  poor  devils 
of  Mormonites  ain't  goiyig  head  first  into  the 
Rapaho  trap.  They'll  be  gone  beaver  afore 
long." 

*'  Aye,"  said  the  strange  hunter,  *'  these  are  the 
wagons  belonging  to  old  Brand,  and  he  has  started 
alone  for  Laramie.  I  hope  nothing  will  happen 
to  them." 

"Brand!"  muttered  La  Bonte.  "I  knowed 
that  name  mighty  well  once,  years  agone;  and 
should  hate  the  worst  kind  that  mischief  happened 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  831 

to  any  one  who  bore  It.  This  trail's  as  fresh  as 
paint,  and  it  goes  against  me  to  let  these  simple 
critters  help  the  Rapahos  to  their  own  hair.  This 
child  feels  like  helping  'em  out  of  the  scrape. 
What  do  you  say,  old  hoss?  " 

"  I  thinks  with  you,  boy,"  answered  Killbuck, 
"  and  go  in  for  following  this  wagon-trail,  and 
telling  the  poor  critters  that  thar's  danger  ahead 
of  them.     What's  your  talk,  stranger?  " 

"  I  go  with  you,"  shortly  answered  the  latter ; 
and  both  followed  quickly  after  La  Bonte,  who 
was  already  trotting  smartly  on  the  trail. 

Meanwhile  the  three  wagons,  containing  the 
household  gods  of  the  Brand  family,  rumbled  slowly 
over  the  rolling  prairie,  and  towards  the  upland 
ridge  of  the  divide,  which,  studded  with  dwarf- 
pine  and  cedar  thicket,  rose  gradually  before  them. 
They  traveled  with  considerable  caution,  for  al- 
ready the  quick  eye  of  Antoine  had  discovered 
recent  Indian  sign  upon  the  trail,  and  with  moun- 
tain quickness  had  at  once  made  it  out  to  be  that 
of  a  war-party:  for  there  were  no  horses  with 
them,  and  after  one  or  two  of  the  moccasin-tracks, 
the  mark  of  a  rope  which  trailed  upon  the  ground 
was  sufficient  to  show  him  that  the  Indians  were 
provided  with  the  usual  lasso  of  skin,  with  which 
to  secure  the  horses  stolen  in  the  expedition. 
The  men  of  the  party  were  consequently  all 
mounted  and  thoroughly  armed,  the  wagons  moved 
in  a  line  abreast,  and  a  sharp  look-out  was  kept 


332  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

on  all  sides.  The  women  and  children  were  all 
consigned  to  the  interior  of  the  wagons ;  and  the 
latter  had  also  guns  in  readiness  to  take  their 
part  in  the  defense,  should  an  attack  be  made. 

However,  they  had  seen  no  Indians,  and  no  fresh 
sign,  for  two  days  after  they  left  the  Boiling 
Spring  River,  and  they  began  to  tliink  they  were 
well  out  of  their  neighborhood.  One  evening  they 
camped  on  a  creek  called  Black  Horse,  and,  as 
usual,  had  corraled  the  wagons,  and  forted  as 
well  as  circumstances  would  permit,  when  three  or 
four  Indians  suddenly  appeared  on  a  bluff  at  a 
little  distance,  and,  making  signals  of  peaceable 
intentions,  approached  the  camp.  Most  of  the 
men  were  absent  at  the  time,  attending  to  the 
cattle  or  collecting  fuel,  and  only  old  Brand  and 
one  of  his  young  grandchildren,  about  fourteen 
years  old,  remained  in  camp.  The  Indians  were 
hospitably  received,  and  regaled  with  a  smoke, 
after  which  they  began  to  evince  their  curiosity 
by  examining  every  article  lying  about,  and  signi- 
fying their  wishes  that  it  should  be  given  to  them. 
Finding  their  hints  were  not  taken,  they  laid  hold 
of  several  things  which  took  their  fancies,  and, 
amongst  others,  of  the  pot  which  was  boiling  on 
the  fire,  and  with  which  one  of  them  was  about 
very  coolly  to  walk  off,  when  old  Brand,  who  up 
to  this  moment  had  retained  possession  of  his 
temper,  seized  it  out  of  the  Indian's  hand  and 
knocked  him  down.     One  of  the  others  instantly 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  SS$ 

began  to  draw  the  buckskin  cover  from  his  gun, 
and  would  no  doubt  have  taken  summary  venge- 
ance for  the  insult  offered  to  his  companion,  when 
Mary  Brand  courageously  stepped  up  to  him, 
and,  placing  her  left  hand  upon  the  gun  which  he 
was  in  the  act  of  uncovering,  with  the  other  pointed 
a  pistol  at  his  breast. 

Whether  daunted  by  the  bold  act  of  the  girl, 
or  admiring  her  devotion  to  her  father,  the  Indian 
drew  himself  back,  exclaimed  "  Howgh ! "  and 
drew  the  cover  again  on  his  piece,  went  up  to  old 
Brand,  who  all  this  time  looked  him  sternly  in  the 
face,  and,  shaking  him  by  the  hand,  motioned  at 
the  same  time  to  the  other  to  be  peaceable. 

The  other  whites  presently  coming  into  camp, 
the  Indians  sat  quietly  down  by  the  fire,  and  when 
the  supper  was  ready,  joined  in  the  repast,  after 
which  they  gathered  their  buffalo-robes  about 
them,  and  quietly  withdrew.  Meanwhile  An- 
toine,  knowing  the  treacherous  character  of  the 
savages,  advised  that  the  greatest  precaution 
should  be  taken  to  secure  the  stock;  and  before 
dark,  therefore,  all  the  mules  and  horses  were  hob- 
bled and  secured  within  the  corral,  the  oxen  being 
allowed  to  feed  at  liberty  —  for  the  Indians 
scarcely  care  to  trouble  themselves  with  such  cat- 
tle. A  guard  was  also  set  round  the  camp,  and 
relieved  every  two  hours  ;  the  fire  was  extinguished, 
lest  the  savages  should  aim,  by  its  light,  at  any 
of  the  party,  and  all  slept  with  rifles  ready  at 


3S4  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

their  sides.  However,  the  night  passed  quietly, 
and  nothing  disturbed  the  tranquillity  of  the  camp. 
The  prairie  wolves  loped  hungrily  around,  and 
their  mournful  cry  was  borne  upon  the  wind,  as 
they  chased  deer  and  antelope  on  the  neighbor- 
ing plain ;  but  not  a  sign  of  lurking  Indians  was 
seen  or  heard. 

In  the  morning,  shortly  after  sunrise,  they  were 
in  the  act  of  yoking  the  oxen  to  the  wagons,  and 
driving  in  the  loose  animals  which  had  been  turned 
out  to  feed  at  daybreak,  when  some  Indians  again 
appeared  upon  the  bluff,  and,  descending  it,  con- 
fidently approached  the  camp.  Antoine  strongly 
advised  their  not  being  allowed  to  enter;  but 
Brand,  ignorant  of  Indian  treachery,  replied  that, 
so  long  as  they  came  as  friends,  they  could  not 
be  deemed  enemies,  and  allowed  no  obstruction  to 
be  offered  to  their  approach.  It  was  now  observed 
that  they  were  all  painted,  armed  with  bows  and 
arrows,  and  divested  of  their  buffalo-robes,  ap- 
pearing naked  to  the  breech-clout,  tlieir  legs  only 
being  protected  by  deer-skin  leggings,  reaching 
to  the  middle  of  the  thigh.  Six  or  seven  first  ar- 
rived, and  others  quickly  followed,  dropping  in  one 
after  the  other,  until  a  score  or  more  were  collected 
round  the  wagons.  Their  demeanor,  at  first 
friendly,  soon  changed  as  their  numbers  increased, 
and  they  now  became  urgent  in  their  demands  for 
powder  and  lead,  and  bullying  in  their  manner. 
A  chief  accosted   Brand,  and,  through  Antoine, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  8S5 

informed  him  that,  unless  the  demands  of  his 
braves  were  acceded  to,  he  could  not  be  respon- 
sible for  the  consequences ;  that  they  were  out  on 
the  war-trail,  and  their  eyes  were  red  with  blood, 
so  that  they  could  not  distinguish  between  white 
and  Yuta  scalps ;  that  the  party,  with  all  their 
women  and  wagons,  were  in  the  power  of  the  In- 
dian braves,  and  therefore  the  white  chief's  best 
plan  was  to  make  the  best  terms  he  could ;  that  all 
they  required  was  that  they  should  give  up  their 
guns  and  ammunition  "  on  the  prairie,"  and  all 
their  mules  and  horses  —  retaining  the  "  medicine 
buffaloes  "  (the  oxen)  "  to  draw  their  wagons." 

By  this  time  the  oxen  were  yoked,  and  the  team- 
sters, whip  in  hand,  only  waited  the  word  to  start. 
Old  Brand  foamed  whilst  the  Indian  stated  his  de- 
mands, but,  hearing  him  to  the  end,  exclaimed, 
"  Dam  the  red  devil !  I  wouldn't  give  him  a  grain 
of  powder  to  save  my  life.  Put  out,  boys !  " — 
and  turning  to  his  horse,  which  stood  ready  sad- 
dled, was  about  to  mount,  when  the  Indians  sprang 
at  once  upon  the  wagons,  and  commenced  their 
attack,  yelling  like  fiends. 

One  jumped  upon  old  Brand,  pulled  him  back 
as  he  was  rising  in  the  stirrup,  and  drew  his  bow 
upon  him  at  the  same  moment.  In  an  instant  the 
old  backwoodsman  pulled  a  pistol  from  his  belt, 
and,  putting  the  muzzle  to  the  Indian's  heart,  shot 
him  dead.  Another  Indian,  flourishing  his  war- 
club,  laid  the  old  man  at  his   feet ;  whilst  some 


336  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

dragged  the  women  from  the  wagons,  and  others 
rushed  upon  the  men,  who  made  brave  fight  in  their 
defense. 

Mary,  when  she  saw  her  father  struck  to  the 
ground,  sprang  with  a  shrill  cry  to  his  assistance ; 
for  at  that  moment  a  savage,  frightful  as  red  paint 
could  make  him,  was  standing  over  his  prostrate 
body,  brandishing  a  glittering  knife  in  the  air, 
preparatory  to  thrusting  it  into  the  old  man's 
breast.  For  the  rest,  all  was  confusion :  in  vain 
the  small  party  of  whites  struggled  against  over- 
powering numbers.  Their  rifles  cracked  but  once, 
and  they  were  quickly  disarmed ;  whilst  the  shrieks 
of  the  women  and  children,  and  the  loud  yells  of 
the  Indians,  added  to  the  scene  of  horror  and  con- 
fusion. As  Mary  flew  to  her  father's  side,  an  In- 
dian threw  his  lasso  at  her,  the  noose  falling  over 
her  shoulders,  and  jerking  it  tight,  he  uttered  a 
delighted  yell  as  the  poor  girl  was  thrown  back 
violently  to  the  ground.  As  she  fell,  another  de- 
liberately shot  an  arrow  at  her  body,  whilst  the 
one  who  had  thrown  the  lasso  rushed  forward,  his 
scalp-knife  flashing  in  his  hand,  to  seize  the  bloody 
trophy  of  his  savage  deed.  The  girl  rose  to  her 
knees,  and  looked  wildly  towards  the  spot  where 
her  father  lay  bathed  in  blood;  but  the  Indian 
pulled  the  rope  violently,  dragged  her  some  yards 
upon  the  ground,  and  then  rushed  with  a  yell  of 
vengeance  upon  his  victim.  He  paused,  however, 
as  at  that  moment  a  shout  as  fierce  as  his  own 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  337 

sounded  at  his  very  ear;  and,  looking  up,  he  saw 
La  Bonte  galloping  madly  down  the  bluff,  his  long 
hair  and  the  fringes  of  his  hunting-shirt  and  leg- 
gings flying  in  the  wind,  his  right  arm  supporting 
his  trusty  rifle,  whilst  close  behind  him  came  Kill- 
buck  and  the  stranger.  Dashing  with  loud  hur- 
rahs to  the  scene  of  action.  La  Bonte,  as  he  charged 
down  the  bluffs,  caught  sight  of  the  girl  struggling 
in  the  hands  of  the  ferocious  Indian.  Loud  was 
the  war-shout  of  the  mountaineer,  as  he  struck 
his  heavy  spurs  to  the  rowels  in  his  horse's  side, 
and  bounded  like  lightning  to  the  rescue.  In  a 
single  stride  he  was  upon  the  Indian,  and  thrusting 
the  muzzle  of  his  rifle  into  his  very  breast,  he  pulled 
the  trigger,  driving  the  savage  backward  by  the 
blow  itself,  at  the  same  moment  that  the  bullet 
passed  through  his  heart  and  tumbled  him  over 
stone-dead.  Throwing  down  his  rifle,  La  Bonte 
wheeled  his  obedient  horse,  and,  drawing  a  pistol 
from  his  belt,  again  charged  the  enemy,  among 
whom  Killbuck  and  the  stranger  were  dealing 
death-giving  blows.  Yelling  for  victory,  the 
mountaineers  rushed  at  the  Indians ;  and  they, 
panic-stricken  at  the  sudden  attack,  and  thinking 
this  was  but  the  advanced-guard  of  a  large  band, 
fairly  turned  and  fled,  leaving  five  of  their  number 
dead  upon  the  field. 

Mary,  shutting  her  eyes  to  the  expected  death- 
stroke,  heard  the  loud  shout  La  Bonte  gave  in 
charging  do^\'n  the  bluffs,  and,  again  looking  up, 


338  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

saw  the  wild-looking  mountaineer  rush  to  her 
rescue,  and  save  her  from  the  savage  by  his  timely 
blow.  Her  arms  were  still  pinned  by  the  lasso, 
which  prevented  her  from  rising  to  her  feet ;  and  La 
Bonte  was  the  first  to  run  to  aid  her,  as  soon  as 
the  fight  was  fairly  over.  He  jumped  from  his 
horse,  cut  the  skin-rope  which  bound  her,  raised 
her  from  the  ground,  and,  upon  her  turning  up 
her  face  to  thank  him,  beheld  his  never-to-be-for- 
gotten Mary  Brand ;  whilst  she,  hardly  believing 
her  senses,  recognized  in  her  deliverer  her  former 
lover,  and  still  well-beloved  La  Bonte. 

**  What,  Mary!  can  it  be  you?  "  he  asked,  look- 
ing intently  upon  the  trembling  woman. 

"  La  Bonte,  you  don't  forget  me !  "  she  answered, 
and  threw  herself  sobbing  into  the  arms  of  the 
sturdy  mountaineer. 

There  we  will  leave  her  for  the  present,  and  help 
Killbuck  and  his  companions  to  examine  the  killed 
and  wounded.  Of  the  former,  five  Indians  and 
two  whites  lay  dead,  the  latter  grandchildren  of 
old  Brand,  fine  lads  of  fourteen  or  fifteen,  who  had 
fought  with  the  greatest  bravery,  and  lay  pierced 
with  arrows  and  lance-wounds.  Old  Brand  had 
received  a  sore  buffet,  but  a  hatful  of  cold  water 
from  the  creek  sprinkled  over  his  face  soon  re- 
stored him.  His  sons  had  not  escaped  scot-free, 
and  Antoine  was  shot  through  the  neck,  and,  fall- 
ing, had  actually  been  half-scalped  by  an  Indian, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  339 

whom  the  timely  arrival  of  La  Bonte  had  caused  to 
leave  his  work  unfinished. 

Silently,  and  with  sad  hearts,  the  survivors  of 
the  family  saw  the  bodies  of  the  two  boys  buried 
on  the  river-bank,  and  the  spot  marked  with  a  pile 
of  loose  stones,  procured  from  the  rocky  bed  of  the 
creek.  The  carcasses  of  the  treacherous  Indians 
were  left  to  be  devoured  by  wolves,  and  their  bones 
to  bleach  in  the  sun  and  wind  —  a  warning  to  their 
tribe,  that  such  foul  treachery  as  they  had  medi- 
tated had  met  with  a  merited  retribution. 

The  next  day  the  party  continued  their  course 
to  the  Platte.  Antoine  and  the  stranger  returned 
to  the  Arkansa,  starting  in  the  night  to  avoid  the 
Indians ;  but  Killbuck  and  La  Bonte  lent  the  aid 
of  their  rifles  to  the  solitary  caravan,  and,  under 
their  experienced  guidance,  no  more  Indian  perils 
were  encountered.  Mary  no  longer  sat  perched 
up  in  her  father's  Conestoga,  but  rode  a  quiet 
mustang  by  La  Bonte's  side;  and  no  doubt  they 
found  a  theme  with  which  to  while  away  the  mo- 
notonous journey  over  the  dreary  plains.  South 
Fork  was  passed,  and  Laramie  was  reached.  The 
Sweet  Water  Mountains,  which  hang  over  the  pass 
to  California,  were  long  since  in  sight;  but  when 
the  waters  of  the  North  Fork  of  Platte  lay  before 
their  horses'  feet,  and  the  broad  trail  was  pointed 
out  which  led  to  the  great  valley  of  Columbia  and 
their  promised  land,  the  heads  of  the  oxen  were 


340  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

turned  down  the  stream,  where  the  shallow  waters 
flow  on  to  join  the  ^eat  Missouri  —  and  not  up, 
towards  the  mountains,  where  they  leave  their 
spring-heads, —  from  which  springs  flow  several 
waters,  some  coursing  their  way  to  the  eastward, 
fertilizing,  in  their  route  to  the  Atlantic,  the  lands 
of  civilized  man,  others  westward,  forcing  a  pas- 
sage through  rocky  canons,  and  flowing  through 
a  barren  wilderness,  inhabited  by  fierce  and  bar- 
barous tribes. 

These  were  the  routes  to  choose  between;  and» 
whatever  was  the  cause,  the  oxen  turned  their 
yoked  heads  away  from  the  rugged  mountains ;  the 
teamsters  joyfully  cracked  their  ponderous  whips, 
as  the  wagons  rolled  lightly  down  the  Platte;  and 
men,  women,  and  children  waved  their  hats  and 
bonnets  in  the  air  and  cried  out  lustily,  "  Hurrah 
for  home !  " 

La  Bonte  looked  at  the  dark  somber  mountains 
ere  he  turned  his  back  upon  them  for  the  last  time. 
He  thought  of  the  many  years  he  had  spent  be- 
neath their  rugged  shadow,  of  the  many  hardships 
he  had  suffered,  of  all  his  pains  and  perils  in  those 
wild  regions.  The  most  exciting  episodes  of  his 
adventurous  career,  his  tried  companions  in  scenes 
of  fierce  fight  and  bloodshed,  passed  in  review  be- 
fore him.  A  feeling  of  regret  was  creeping  over 
him,  when  Mary  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  shoul- 
der. One  single  tear  rolled  unbidden  down  his 
cheek,  and  he  answered  her  inquiring  eyes :  "  I'm, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  841 

not  sorry  to  leave  it,  Mary,"  he  said ;  "  but  it's 
hard  to  turn  one's  back  upon  old  friends." 

They  had  a  hard  battle  with  Killbuck,  in  en- 
deavoring to  persuade  him  to  accompany  them  to 
the  settlements.  The  old  mountaineer  shook  his 
head.  The  time,  he  said,  was  gone  by  for  that. 
He  had  often  thought  of  it,  but,  when  the  day  ar- 
rived, he  hadn't  heart  to  leave  the  mountains. 
Trapping  now  was  of  no  account,  he  knew ;  but 
beaver  was  bound  to  rise,  and  then  the  good  times 
would  come  again.  What  could  he  do  in  the  set- 
tlements, where  there  wasn't  room  to  move,  and 
where  it  was  hard  to  breathe  —  there  were  so  many 
people  ? 

He  accompanied  them  a  considerable  distance 
down  the  river,  ever  and  anon  looking  cautiously 
back,  to  ascertain  that  he  had  not  gone  out  of  sight 
of  the  mountains.  Before  reaching  the  forks,  how- 
ever, he  finally  bade  them  adieu ;  and,  turning  the 
head  of  his  old  grizzled  mule  westward,  he  heartily 
wrung  the  hand  of  his  comrade  La  Bonte ;  and,  cry- 
ing Yep !  to  his  well-tried  animal,  disappeared  be- 
hind a  roll  of  the  prairie,  and  was  seen  no  more 
—  a  thousand  good  wishes  for  the  welfare  of 
the  sturdy  trapper  speeding  him  on  his  solitary 
way. 

Four  months  from  the  day  when  La  Bonte  so 
opportunely  appeared  to  rescue  Brand's  family 
from  the  Indians  on  Black  Horse  Creek,  that 
worthy  and  the  faithful  Mary  were  duly  and  law- 


342  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

fully  united  in  the  township  church  of  Brandville, 
Memphis  County,  State  of  Tennessee.  We  cannot 
say,  in  the  concluding  words  of  nine  hundred  and 
ninety-nine  thousand  novels,  that  "  numerous 
pledges  of  mutual  love  surrounded  and  cheered 
them  in  their  declining  years,"  &c.,  &c. ;  because 
it  was  only  on  the  24th  of  July,  in  the  year  of  our 
Lord  1847,  that  La  Bonte  and  Mary  Brand  were 
finally  made  one,  after  fifteen  long  years  of  separa- 
tion. 

The  fate  of  one  of  the  humble  characters  who 
have  figured  in  these  pages  we  must  yet  tarry  a 
little  longer  to  describe. 

During  the  past  winter,  a  party  of  mountaineers, 
flying  from  overpowering  numbers  of  hostile  Sioux, 
found  themselves,  one  stormy  evening,  in  a  wild  and 
dismal  canon  near  the  elevated  mountain  valley 
called  the  New  Park. 

The  rocky  bed  of  a  dry  mountain  torrent,  whose 
waters  were  now  locked  up  at  their  spring-heads 
by  icy  fetters,  was  the  only  road  up  which  they 
could  make  their  difficult  way ;  for  the  rugged  sides 
of  the  gorge  rose  precipitously  from  the  creek, 
scarcely  affording  a  foot-hold  to  even  the  active 
bighorn,  which  occasionally  looked  down  upon  the 
travelers  from  the  lofty  summit.  Logs  of  pine  up- 
rooted by  the  hurricanes  which  sweep  incessantly 
through  the  mountain  defiles,  and  tossed  headlong 
from  the  surrounding  ridges,  continually  ob- 
structed their  way ;  and  huge  rocks  and  boulders, 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  343 

fallen  from  the  heights  and  blocking  up  the  bed 
of  the  stream,  added  to  the  difficulty,  and  threat- 
ened them  every  instant  with  destruction. 

Towards  sundown  they  reached  a  point  where 
the  canon  opened  out  into  a  little  shelving  glade 
or  prairie,  a  few  hundred  yards  in  extent,  the  en- 
trance to  which  was  almost  hidden  by  thicket  of 
dwarf  pine  and  cedar.  Here  they  determined  to 
encamp  for  the  night,  in  a  spot  secure  from  In- 
dians, and,  as  they  imagined,  untrodden  by  the 
foot  of  man. 

What,  however,  was  their  astonishment,  on 
breaking  through  the  cedar-covered  entrance,  to 
perceive  a  solitary  horse  standing  motionless  in 
the  center  of  the  prairie.  Drawing  near,  they 
found  it  to  be  an  old  grizzled  mustang,  or  In- 
dian pony,  with  cropped  ears  and  ragged  tail 
(well  picked  by  hungry  mules),  standing  doubled 
up  with  cold,  and  at  the  very  last  gasp  from  ex- 
treme old  age  and  weakness.  Its  bones  were 
nearly  through  the  stiffened  skin,  the  legs  of  the 
animal  were  gathered  under  it;  whilst  its  forlorn- 
looking  head  and  stretched-out  neck  hung  list- 
lessly downwards,  almost  overbalancing  its  totter- 
ing body.  The  glazed  and  sunken  eye  —  the  pro- 
truding and  froth-covered  tongue  —  the  heaving 
flank  and  quivering  tail  —  declared  its  race  was 
run ;  and  the  driving  sleet  and  snow,  and  penetrat- 
ing winter  blast,  scarce  made  impression  upon  its 
callous  and  worn-out  frame. 


SU  IN  THE  OLD  WEST 

One  of  the  band  of  mountaineers  was  Marcelline, 
and  a  single  look  at  the  miserable  beast  was  suffi- 
cient for  him  to  recognize  the  once  renowned  Nez- 
perce  steed  of  old  Bill  Williams.  That  the  owner 
himself  was  not  far  distant  he  felt  certain;  and, 
searching  carefully  around,  the  hunters  presently 
came  upon  an  old  camp,  before  which  lay,  pro- 
truding from  the  snow,  the  blackened  remains  of 
pine  logs.  Before  these,  which  had  been  the  fire, 
and  leaning  with  his  back  against  a  pine  trunk, 
and  his  legs  crossed  under  him,  half  covered  with 
snow,  reclined  the  figure  of  the  old  mountaineer, 
his  snow-capped  head  bent  over  his  breast.  His 
well-known  hunting-coat  of  fringed  elk-skin  hung 
stiff  and  weather-stained  about  him ;  and  his  rifle, 
packs,  and  traps  were  strewed  around. 

Awe-struck,  the  trappers  approached  the  body, 
and  found  it  frozen  hard  as  stone,  in  which  state 
it  had  probably  lain  there  for  many  days  or  weeks. 
A  jagged  rent  in  the  breast  of  his  leather  coat, 
and  dark  stains  about  it,  showed  he  had  received 
a  wound  before  his  death;  but  it  was  impossible 
to  say,  whether  to  his  hurt,  or  to  sickness,  or  to 
the  natural  decay  of  age,  was  to  be  attributed 
the  wretched  and  solitary  end  of  poor  Bill  Wil- 
liams. 

A  friendly  bullet  cut  short  the  few  remaining 
hours  of  the  trapper's  faithful  steed;  and  bury- 
ing, as  well  as  they  were  able,  the  body  of  the 
old  mountaineer,  the  hunters  next  day  left  him 


IN  THE  OLD  WEST  346 

in  his  lonely  grave,  in  a  spot  so  wild  and  remote, 
that  it  was  doubtful  whether  even  hungry  wolves 
would  discover  and  disinter  his  attenuated  corpse. 


THE   END 


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